Dove Amid Serpents
by GibberingGhoul
Summary: Elyon leads a delegation to Cedric's homeland, hoping the endorsement of their fearsome leader will further legitimate her nascent rule. Meanwhile, Caleb and Vathek have joined for reasons alongside protecting their queen. None in the company foresee the deeds of Cedric's supreme leader, and the Guardians might need to save their friend again.
1. Longing is so Horrible

_Dove in the Midst of Serpents_ is a sequel to the fanfiction _Kiss the Snake Good Night_. Initial chapters summarize events from the latter (from Elyon's perspective) so that new readers don't feel obligated to read it.

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_Dove in the Midst of Serpents_

By Memory In Crimson

**Tags: **Animated universe, Alternative universe, Sequel

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**Chapter I**

When Cedric had told Elyon that he was not from Earth, she had felt her adolescent affection for him begin to crumble. "Rick" Hoffman, the hunky book seller with golden hair, gorgeous violet eyes, that chiselled face, and that glowing skin was crazy; and poor Elyon had fallen for him.

Then, in the privacy of his office, he had changed—_really changed_. As in, Cedric had transformed from a handsome human into a dog, one that barked _and_ talked. Then he had changed from the dog into some bat-like creature about four feet tall with a cartoonish face like a toad and three-pointed ears.

Finally, Cedric had transformed into his familiar handsome self, and Elyon, wide-eyed and mouth agape, had asked: "Why are you telling _me _this? Of _all_ people—_me_?" She smirked and added waggishly, "Is this like some sort of fantasy novel where I'm secretly the hero?"

"I would not have shown you my power," Cedric had begun solemnly, "if you were an ordinary earthling. But you aren't from Earth either, my princess. You are the heir that I've sought for thirteen long, agonising years."

Elyon couldn't believe what Cedric had just claimed. Oh, sure, she could no longer deny the existence of _magic_—actual, really _real_ magic that wasn't sleight-of-hand stuff, not after Cedric's jaw-dropping display. She had had a more difficult time, though, believing that she was more than an ordinary girl. Why, to be recruited for _another_ heroine's adventure had made more sense, but _she_ was the chosen one? Elyon "Ordinary Heatherfield Teenaged Girl" Brown? _A princess_?

The poor thing had lain on Cedric's divan, repeating denial after denial as he had explained that the strange, glowing, green star she had stolen had actually been magically crafted for the rightful heir and _only_ the rightful heir to the throne.

But that _still_ couldn't have been possible! Elyon couldn't have been some heir to the throne in a land called Meridian, on a planet—_"Another planet?"_ she had cried—called Metamoor. She couldn't have been kidnapped and spirited to earth by a bunch of rogues, whom sought to disrupt the natural order of that magical realm.

And a _brother_? She had had an older brother, whom had served as regent? And he had never stopped searching for her, dreaming of the day when they would reunite, and he could set the crown upon her noble brow—

"And I'm her?" Elyon had exclaimed, looking Cedric straight in his eyes. "Me? Me? _Me_, of _all_ people?"

When Cedric had wrapped his strapping fingers gently around her hands, Elyon's heart had fluttered.

"I would never have revealed all these things to you," he had said, "unless I were certain that you were she... my princess."

Enchanted by the honest in Cedric's scintillating eyes, Elyon had not paid attention to—rather, she hadn't _anticipated_ the subtle rise in her energy, until Cedric had leaped to his feet and cursed, shaking his injured hands.

Elyon had been mortified. Jumping to his side, she had inundated him with apologies and had begged to see his hands. Oh, _God!_ Had she inflicted such pain upon him? God, she would have never hurt Cedric on purpose—oh, God, oh, God! She had been a terrible person!

When Cedric had hugged her and stroked her head, the butterflies in her heart had renewed their flight. He had lifted her chin gently, and he had smiled at her. That shocking manifestation had only served as one more piece of proof, he had said.

"A slightly painful piece of proof," he had added with chuckle, "but proof nonetheless."

At that and subsequent meetings, Cedric had recounted many details surrounding her life: that her _real_ parents had long ago perished; that only she could rule as the Light of Meridian; that in reclaiming her birthright, she would avenge them; that some rebellion sought to undermine her brother's regency; that her friends—Will, Irma, Hay, Taranee, and even _Cornelia_—had become involved with the rebellion as warriors called the Guardians.

Had they been conspiring with the rebels outright? Elyon had wondered. Or had they been unwitting weapons of war? Cedric had been unable to tell. Regardless, she couldn't let them know what she had finally learned.

And the Browns? Her so-called parents? She _definitely_ could not let them know what she had learned or that Cedric had come to Earth. Furthermore, Parent's Night at Sheffield Institute, Cedric would reveal to her who and _what_ they actually had been.

Indeed, Parents' Night had been the night that Elyon Brown could no longer call herself a Brown, could no longer live a lie on a world that had never been hers. As soon as Cedric had held the Star of Threbe aloft behind the Browns' head, he had exposed them as inhuman creatures they had always been.

Elyon had shrieked, and she had run into his embrace. She could trust only Cedric, then, and she could trust only the people that Cedric told her she could trust.

And she had trusted Cedric when he had said he would get her safely home, home to Meridian.

* * *

When Elyon had arrived in the middle of the _beautiful_ castle, untouched by the ravages of the centuries, she had marvelled and thanked Cedric for rescuing her. She had thanked Phobos, her brother, whom had embraced her as soon as he had seen her. She had made it—she had _finally_ come home! Phobos had taken her hand and begun to show her all that he had desired her to see.

Indeed, all that _he_ had desired. Every guard and every servant had been painstakingly prepared for Elyon's arrival. Phobos had ensured that not one of his thralls, by either accident or in foolish defiance, would expose his true intentions for Elyon.

Everyone save Cedric.

Some force within or without Cedric had invigorated his enervated conscience. He had invited Elyon to his chamber one night, and her affection had stirred. She had assumed that perhaps Cedric had cast aside his (admittedly) noble abstention from _being_ with her, that he would requite the love she had for him in that most intimate manner. Such had not been his intention.

Cedric had revealed that he had become deathly ill, and the hour of his demise would chime when he would least expect it. He had confessed that this malady had arisen from some dread he wouldn't describe to her, the fear of a horrific punishment that Phobos would inflict. Nevertheless, Cedric could no longer live with the guilt of the evil he had done to her or the evil that Phobos had planned.

All that Cedric had spoken about the Browns, the rebels, and her friends had been lies. The Browns had withheld the truth from her, yes, but not malignantly. They had been trying to conceal Elyon, to _save_ her from Phobos. The rebels had consisted of more than peasants furious at the atrocious conditions under which Phobos had ruled. Members of the Queen's court, ones who had survived Phobos's purge, had also embedded themselves within the Rebellion.

And her friends? she wondered. The Guardians? _Cornelia_?

Appointed by the council of some holy place called Kandrakar. Phobos had not only dragged Metamoor into an unsavoury war, but he had reached beyond their world, stealing magical energy and recruiting ferocious soldiers from other worlds. Therefore, this Kandrakar place had sent the Guardians, young women (who, at this time, happened to be her friends) to aid the Rebellion and ultimately Elyon.

That confession had ignited Elyon's fury.

_How dare he!_ How dare Cedric take advantage of Elyon's trust, of her love for him! His tender, sibilant voice and that otherworldly, hypnotic gaze had lured her to a fate worse than death. _God!_ With the power she had cultivated in Meridian, she would have used every technique to make the hideous snake suffer.

"What do I do _now_?" Elyon had demanded, sparks crackling around her fists. "I mean, now that you've pretty much _kidnapped_ me, and I have _no way_ of getting back to Earth, where people actually love me and try to tell me _the truth?_"

He had replied unsatisfactorily: "I don't know."

Elyon had growled. She had sworn to herself she would kill him!

"But this I do know," he had continued, "now that you know the truth, it's imperative that the coronation does not come to pass as your brother has planned it to."

They had fallen silent, and Cedric's gaze had fallen to the floor. Then he had begun to speak with cunning:

"In fact... I think you might get some _well-wishers_ the day before. Ones who have _no_ intention of letting that _back-stabber_ get what he wants."

The fate that Phobos had intended for Elyon would not come to pass, not as long as Cedric maintained his loyalty to her. And as long as Elyon feigned her naïveté and her affection for Phobos, the blackguard would remain none-the-wiser.

A new trust for Cedric instilled, Elyon had forgiven him, and she had remained beside him as often as she could.

Cedric had visited her chamber and taught her as many subjects as he could. He had spoken of how humans had come to Metamoor (so, in a way, Earth really had been her home), of the native Galhots and the foul brigands called the Kahedrin, of the first Light of Meridian, and of Elyon's mother.

When Elyon had tried to broach the subject of his people, though, Cedric had often hesitated. His true form had always caused her to flinch and cringe and hide her face, and he had assumed his culture might appear no less terrifying.

To remind her that the Aaronagim had been more than ferocious beasts, he would invite her to his chamber with its illustrious tapestries, the myriad of baubles and statues from his homeland and lands that had traded with it, and the library of books that rendered him "human"—that is, relatable, to use less biased vocabulary.

Elyon had seen that Cedric had felt more relaxed speaking of the Land of the Lotus in his chamber, for he would coil comfortably upon his vast bed, his voice soften like his human voice, and his claws flourish elegantly. His lessons had renewed her love for Meridian and had piqued her curiosity about the land of the serpentine shape-shifters.

But before he could dive deep into the tale of Queen Chesed and her journey to the Land of the Lotus, Cedric had vanished.

Elyon had known that Phobos had been responsible. Despite how cautious she had been, Phobos had to have happened upon their plans, and God alone had known into what horrible dungeon Cedric had been thrown.

Perhaps Phobos had not learned what Elyon had discovered. According to Caleb, the possibility had existed that Phobos had felt that Cedric had fulfilled his purpose. He had acquired Elyon, and since Cedric had suffered a slew of defeats against the Guardians, Phobos had lost the need for such an incompetent general.

Regardless of Phobos's reason, the bastard had robbed Elyon of her friend, the closest friend that she had gained in the castle, a friend whom despite his monstrous appearance had behaved tenderly, lovingly, and penitently. Phobos had done something _terrible_ to Cedric, and Elyon had fought hard against her imagination to not conjure up visions of the worst.

Even after the battle against Phobos, even after she had towered victoriously above the lying scumbag, Elyon's heart had ached for Cedric, for he had not been present to see himself avenged.

* * *

A young Galhot messenger had arrived in the Great Hall of the Castle of Saviour-King Escanor, where Queen Elyon listened to as many soldiers as she could. The Galhot could not have been much older than Caleb, and he hopped through the throng with the excitement of a teenager at a concert on Earth.

Older soldiers snorted and shook their heads at his verve, but to Elyon, this young man was a breath of fresh air. She'd forgotten how many days had passed since she'd defeated Phobos and cast him into prison. She'd assumed that since her powers had restored light and life to the land, the rebels—_former_ rebels had no need to report on more battles or to ration supplies (especially since all that Phobos had stolen was restored) or seek her advice on trade restrictions against this or that noble.

Yet _there she was_, and Elyon felt exhausted. She needed someone her age (well, somewhat her age) to liven up such often adult proceedings.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"

"Wali, son of Wace," drawled Thomas Brown, shaking his head. "You mind queueing up like everybody else?"

The young man stumbled as he approached the dais, and his red bandana fell over his eyes comically. Clearing his throat, he bowed quickly and popped up before he announced, "I've got news from the front lines."

"Yeah? So does everyone behind you," said Thomas.

Wali puffed out his chest. "I've got news from _Caleb_, son of Julian, unless our leader is no longer important to the _true_ crown of Meridian."

Elyon perked and stepped from the dais.

"Caleb? Did he make it? Did he make it to Cavigor?" she asked with growing excitement. "Did he find Cedric?"

Wali smirked at her adopted father, now-bodyguard. He knelt again and replied, "Yes, Your Majesty, the army made it to Cavigor, and yes, we found Cedric."

Elyon's breath hitched as she smiled. This was good! This was good so far—no mention of death. Then again, he hadn't gotten far in his report—

"Your Majesty..."

The young queen gazed at the woman she had called 'Mother' for thirteen years. Eleanor Brown hadn't looked so solemn since the days leading to Parents' Night, the night she had lost Elyon.

_The night he took me away from her_, she remembered.

"It's... noble that you have so much concern for Cedric," said Eleanor, "even after all that he's done, but..." She paused, clearly mulling over her words. "... there are many other people who need your attention just as much."

Then Eleanor gazed at Wali and asked with stony authority, "Have you anything else to report?"

The messenger cringed beneath her fearsome gaze. He glanced wide-eyed at Elyon, like a boy fearful of his date's protective mother. Eventually, he overcame his fright and replied, "Yes, captain. Ummm... The lands between Meridian and Cavigor have been liberated, and that includes the prison itself. I, uhh..."

The playfulness in his eyes receded, and he cleared his throat before he resumed.

"I don't know how to mince words, captain. And I _certainly_ don't want to upset Her Majesty here—Infinite brightness to the Light 'n' all. But, um... of all the things I've seen, conditions at the prison were _more_ than harsh. They were downright atrocious.

"Now I've spied some guards around Meridian, before the liberation, who were supposed to be freshly discharged from there, and they looked... _bad_. But the ones on active duty? They looked like prisoners themselves! I swear upon the Heart of Kandrakar, it was hard telling one from the other. It shook us up _some bad_, captain, I'm afraid to say. But there's no way to mince it."

A grim silence began to hush every conversation in the background of this dismal message. Elyon's heart began to beat febrilely with growing dread.

"And Cedric?" she asked. "Is he okay?"

Wali's lips became a thin seam, and he averted his eyes for a moment.

"That's... kinda why Caleb sent me, Your Majesty. He knows how much the old snake means to you, but... well... It's important you know, Your Majesty, just like the captain here said: _a lot_ of people suffered under Phobos. _A lot_, and it's startin' to look like even his most elite warriors didn't have as good a life as some of us thought.

"But you don't need to see _any_ of it to believe me, Your Majesty. And I mean that. _You_ don't need to see _any_ of it. And Caleb asked me to ask you not to visit Cedric when he does come to Meridian. Not now, anyway. Not until he's all healed up, and that's gonna take some time, Majesty. Lots of it."

If Wali or Eleanor or Thomas had continued the conversation, Elyon had no recollection of it. Her mind had descended into stark bleakness, and she could only think: _He's dead, but he's not dead, but he might as well be. Oh, _Go-o-od_, it's _that_ bad, and now I can't see him? He might as well be dead, oh, God, he's probably suffering, he probably wishes he were dead so he wouldn'thavetojustwhy, why, why, why, whywhywhy -_

Elyon wanted to see Cedric. She knew she would probably regret it. She wasn't used to seeing what war, torture, and imprisonment did to people, but she still wanted to see him. She wanted to see _exactly_ what that bastard Phobos had done to her beloved friend. Oh, God, she wanted to scream—she wished she could scream, and she didn't care if she screamed this or that expletive and if Eleanor or Thomas reprimanded her. Phobos had done this to her. Phobos had done terrible things to _him_! To Cedric, _her beautiful, kind, sad-eyed Cedric_!

"Elyon! _Honey!_"

Eleanor had not called Elyon by her name without her royal title or by any endearment since the native Metamooran had become an active soldier again. To do so defied certain etiquette, but this breach awoke Elyon from her apoplexy.

The girl gazed at her adopted mother and, on the verge of tears, she whimpered, "I wanna go home."

"Elyon..." Eleanor knelt before her, tucking Elyon's hair behind her ears with motherly strokes.

The girl's chest heaved and collapsed as she choked on her anger and grief.

"I can't do this any more," she whimpered before her voice rose and echoed violently in the Great Hall: "_I can't do this any more!_"

Distress seized the assembly. Elyon was their Light, _the_ Light of Meridian, and to hear her sobbing, whatever the reason, alarmed every one of them. But they didn't _really_ understand. She knew most of them had fought against Cedric, and despite the fact that he had betrayed Phobos and aided their Light, his metanoia soothed their bitterness minimally.

But _she_ still loved him, loved him in way beyond friendship, loved him in a way he had said he would never dare requite until she was older. He was more than worthy of his nobility in her eyes, her chivalrous, loyal, sorrowful, tormented knight in shining, green armour.

No one had prepared Elyon for this—for war, for its aftermath. The worst conflicts she had ever dealt with centred around verbal duels with the Grumper Sisters or the fights she occasionally saw started by Uriah and his goons. No one had prepared her for soldiers _her age_ fighting against guards twice or thrice as old, yet these _kids_ somehow functioned in... _this_. They coped better than she did because they were used to having their friends get 'disappeared' or injured or... or...

"Ellie? Ellie? _Elyon?_"

"Elyon... baby girl... Wake up, sweetie."

The young queen blinked rapidly, and she focused on the familiar faces before her. "Mmm... wha... What's going on?"

Thomas and Eleanor smiled, stroking her head and caressing her hands and arms.

"Sweetie," Eleanor cooed, "you had a panic attack. We got you out of the hall. You're in your bedroom now."

"You've been working way too hard," said Thomas.

"We were so scared for you, honey. But now, you can get some rest."

Elyon's muscles twitched and ached as she sat. She clung to one of the pillows and wobbled back and forth.

"I can't do this," she said. "I just can't handle all of this. I thought... being the Light of Meridian, healing the land would be enough. But I didn't heal _everything_, just this city and the towns nearby. There's still Phobo's friends to fight, and there's, like, a lot of people who haven't been helped. And I'm supposed know how to do that? Why does everyone keep coming to me when I don't have that kind of know-how, and I don't..."

She gazed into her adopted parents' eyes. Indeed, they ceased to be her bodyguards. They were her father and mother, present to listen and comfort her.

"... I don't have the... the maturity. I don't have the ability to handle all this."

Eleanor cooed as she and Thomas hugged her.

"_I'm so sorry_," whimpered the young queen.

"_Nooo_. No, baby, you have nothing to be sorry about," said Eleanor with a smile. "Elyon, you're still very, _very_ young, and you've never had the kind of experiences that have shaped the people of this world. It doesn't make you a terrible person."

"And neither does the helplessness you feel," added Thomas.

"That's right. We've all been there, your dad and I especially when we... couldn't save your mother or father. But when it comes to knowing things—or _not_—all you have to say is, 'I don't know.' It's the most honest answer you can give when you really don't know, and you just have that person come to us, and we'll take care of it for you.

"But Ellie, you have to also remember this: the Light of Meridian means _so-o-o much_ to the peoples of Metamoor. Whether it's you or when it was your mother, the Light is a symbol for light and life and stability. The power that flows out from her, out into the world and keeps it in harmony. That's the kind of thing the people are looking for when they seek your attention."

Then Eleanor sighed and added, "But popularity _can_ take it's toll. And I think a lot of people forget that you're _not_ Queen Chesed. You're Elyon, a loving little girl who's still learning so much about this world."

"And even when you are a grown-up," said Thomas with a chuckle, "you'll still need other grown-ups to help you."

Then her parents frowned, and Thomas conceded, "I guess Eleanor and I kind of forgot that you're still a kid. And you in particular... this is all nasty stuff to deal with. And it doesn't help when Mum and I are all formal with you. I mean, there's a reason why we can't just call you 'Elyon' or 'sweetie' or—"

"'Perky, purple pumpkin pie?'" asked Elyon with a smile, eliciting their laughter.

"Or 'perky, purple pumpkin pie,'" said Eleanor. "The point is, Ellie, even when we have to address you a certain way _out there_, it doesn't mean we've stopped loving you like our baby girl."

Elyon needed to hear someone tell her that they loved her, not as their holy monarch but as a person. She knew that her parents spoke the truth when they gave her a final tight, warm embrace before departing. She knew that they could address the concerns of the myriad of people whom inundated the Great Hall. She wouldn't dwell on the dark crimes committed against Cedric or anyone else for that matter. Phobos was gone. Justice had been served and would continue to be served.

_He'll be okay. He'll be okay. Caleb knows what he's doing, too. They'll make sure everything's okay. Everyone's okay... Cedric _will_ be okay..._

* * *

**Annotations:**

_Aaronagim_ (pl.) a race of serpentine shape-shifters native to _Žeayia Yikþ_ on the planet Metamoor. This is the name by which they go publicly.

_Land of the Lotus _(n.) in the native Aaronag language, _Žeayia Yikþ_, a land marked with numerous rivers, lakes, and swamps and pocketed with temperate broadleaf and coniferous forests and several deserts.

_Infinite brightness to the Light 'n' all_ (phrase) from the comics. The actual acclaim is 'Infinite brightness to the Light of Meridian!' but Wali (also derived from the comics) is about as informal as one of the Three Stooges.

_Queen Chesed_ (name) Elyon and Phobos's mother. I've abandoned the name 'Weira' from the cartoon series and renamed the queen after the Hebrew principle of 'loving-kindness.'

**Disclaimer: **The author of this fanfiction makes no claim of ownership over existing properties within the _W.I.T.C.H._ franchise. The author makes no monetary gain from writing this fanfiction, which is written solely for entertainment.


	2. Deliver Me

**Chapter II**

If Elyon could consider anyone her Light—well, any _lady_ her Light, Cornelia was she.

As long as the Veil remained, the Guardians could travel back and forth to Meridian with ease (mostly to assist with missions, that is). During one opportunity, Cornelia detoured to visit Elyon. She updated the young queen on the latest gossip from Heatherfield, including rumours swirling around the Browns' sudden disappearance.

"I mean, it's such a good thing," said Cornelia, "that Dr. Gnone is also from Meridian and forged those sick docs for the school. But Cassandra Mathers keeps saying that Bryan knocked you up after that _one time_ you guys went on a date."

"_Eww! Nooo!_" exclaimed Elyon.

"It gets. _Worse_. Samantha Dubin—"

"Miss 'I-Think-_All_-Sweaters-Look-Good-On-Me'?"

"The. Same. Samantha has been going around saying you've slept with _everyone_—"

Elyon scoffed. "_Not. Even._ Like, the most action I've ever seen was when Mark and I used to kiss. And there wasn't even any tongue!"

"Right? You are _way-ay-ay_ too classy for sleeping around!"

Elyon rolled her eyes. "Oh, my God! I'm _dreading_ what the Grumper Sisters have been saying, although they don't exactly have a creative bone between either of them. They're probably just repeating whatever Cassandra's been saying."

Cornelia's gaiety and eye-rolling ceased, yielding to furtive tittering and then silence. Tipping her head, Elyon wondered (and feared) whatever knowledge Cornelia had.

"About that... um..."

The other teenager hummed and hawed, tucking her hair nervously behind one ear before holding both of Elyon's hands. Oh, Lord... Cornelia hadn't been so nervous since the time she had told Elyon that Matt Olsen didn't quite like-like her or the time Cornelia had tried hard to tactfully say Elyon didn't look good in that Astruc dress or—

_Or when she was trying hide the fact she was a Guardian, _thought Elyon._ Or that I was a princess from another world..._

"Look, Elyon..." She sounded so solemn, and that made Elyon anxious.

"I... I know it wouldn't have actually happened, although who knows—it could have! And you're really, _really lucky_ that it didn't or that something _worse_ didn't happen, but... Okay, the Grumpers didn't exactly start it, but you know how _Martin_ is! He just says whatever the hell conspiracy is on his mind, and—"

"_Martin?_" exclaimed Elyon, to which Cornelia nodded.

Martin Tubbs, Sheffield's self-declared 'best investigative journalist,' had spread a rumour? About _Elyon_? That couldn't be! Granted, nerdy little Martin could jump to conclusions, but he usually followed his wild hypotheses with dogged quests for evidence.

"It's _sooo_ totally not his fault, I swear," said Cornelia in a flash, waving her hands to ease any frustration Elyon might feel bubbling, "and he's been apologising like crazy to me and Alchemy. Like, he really wishes they hadn't overheard him, but..."

Cornelia took a deep breath and exhaled slowly; and her words became slower as she related what she had heard.

"I know how you feel about... _you know_. _Him._ And you know how I feel about him and how Alborn and Miriadel feel, and just how... _angry_ and frustrated we all felt about him."

Elyon's nose crinkled, and she frowned, as though a mephitic odour had suddenly poisoned their happy air.

"... but... Martin unintentionally started a rumour—and the Grumper Sisters _have_ taken credit for it—about you and... _him_. Martin thinks that he either kidnapped you and left town or knocked you up and then left town. Of course, why didn't the Browns get the police involved if that were the case? Because if some dude is going around molesting people's kids, it doesn't matter how cute he looks. Irma's dad's gonna kick his ass, and Taranee's mom's gonna put him away for a long, _long_ time.

"Well... that's why a lot of people think it's crazy conspiracy number two. You got pregnant, but you lied about who did it because you're protecting Rick, and your parents got the doctor to lie about a heart condition that requires you to move _way-ay, way_ away, across the country to a specialist, who can help you."

The insanity—the utter depravity of that story disgusted Elyon. She despised what the lie implied about her. Certainly, she loved Cedric! Perhaps a bit too much, and certainly, she was a naïve young woman, but that couldn't have happened to _her_. Never! Maybe...

Elyon felt especially nauseous because what of everyone had begun to assume of Cedric. He would have never done _that_ to her. He had even said, he wouldn't even think of courting her until she was much, _much_ older, let alone do _that_ with her. Besides, he had said he preferred gentlemen more than ladies, so why would anyone spread such horrible lie?

_Because I _was_ too close to him_, thought Elyon sadly. _Because _he_ got too close to _me.

A grim smile stretched across Elyon's face.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can... I can see why people would think that," said Elyon. "And I guess you _are_ right about me being lucky and all. And if I had been killed, it wouldn't have been Cedric, but... he did lead me right into Phobos's hands, huh?"

As Elyon's tears seeped from the bottom of her heart, she realised that she was more than naïve. Even a dunce like Uriah wouldn't have fallen into a trap such as the one Cedric had laid for her.

_But I'm alive. I'm alive, and I'm okay. And Cedric never did anything bad to me. Not like _that_.  
_

Cornelia laid her hands gently upon Elyon's shoulders and asked, "You okay?"

A hiccough marred the young queen's laughter. "Yeah. Yeah, but, uhh... Um... I just feel so sorry for _Martin_," she added with a smile. "Irma hasn't threatened him, has she?"

Cornelia smirked. "Only two times that I know of. When he got on his knees and tried begging for forgiveness."

Elyon's smile brightened for a moment before she fell into solemnity again.

"I guess the reason I keeping fixating on him is... Cedric paid so much attention to me. And it felt really good. He talked to me like an adult, and he actually tried to teach me things. About this place, anyway. Not like Phobos," she said with a sneer. "Cedric made Meridian so accessible, but now that he's sick, I have to rely on my parents for help. And they'd rather just do things for me, rather than have me get overwhelmed and freak out and collapse again."

Elyon sighed and looked into her friend's eyes. "How do _you_ do it? How do you cope with all... _this_? And all while _not_ knowing all there is to know about this place?"

Cornelia sat hunched, her hands woven together against her mouth. She was far from the dumb blonde stereotype that some students in Sheffield accused her of being. When she fell this silent, she was diving deep into contemplation.

Finally, she replied, "It's hard. I'm not gonna lie. God, it's hard. Like, it was a shock when I found out that I was a Guardian. And it was crazy to me and the other girls that here we are, at _this_ age, with these powers that I guess sort of... picked us? I dunno, it's kind of like not being able to choose how your hair'll grow or your eyes or your height.

"But anyway... I guess it all comes down to luck again. Like, you're lucky nothing really bad happened to you, and we're lucky we happened to bump into Caleb and Blunk and everybody they know. And we just kind of say to ourselves, 'Okay, we're in a weird world with weird creatures and plants and God-knows-what else. We're just gonna do our thing, and if anybody from around here tells us, "Hey! Don't do that" or "Yeah, that's okay eat," then we'll listen to them.' Just do what you're gonna do, and just be you, but, like, don't be a jerk about. And _always_ listen to Caleb. That boy is a _lifesaver._"

Elyon beamed. "Thanks, Cornelia."

Her friend smiled and performed the trademark sweeping of her long, golden hair.

"What are Guardian friends for?"

* * *

Elyon coupled Cornelia's advice with Eleanor and Thomas's openness to help her. She encouraged seasoned soldiers to communicate directly with one another, her parents, or her newly-formed council rather than with Elyon herself. Meanwhile, when she engaged with the citizenry, she would quickly confess that she knew little about Metamoor, about the myriad of laws and customs.

"So, can you give me a break-down?" she asked. "Of what, like, the history is?"

Of course, Thomas, Eleanor, or Caleb needed to translate her earthling vernacular for the puzzled pilgrims. As for a secretary, Galgheita recorded notes for Elyon to study later, when the disguised Galhot wasn't finishing the year at Sheffield as Mrs. Rudolph.

The young queen's ignorance offended none, for she was humble and eager to learn. She listened to her people, unlike the tyrannical Phobos, and before each pilgrim would depart, they would always hail her:

_"Infinite brightness to the Light of Meridian!"_

Elyon thought the deference was sweet, but also a tad weird. Almost creepy. Not that she didn't enjoy being queen. Many girls on earth only dreamed of being princesses, let alone queens. She loved being loved by an entire nation of people, and honestly, she had no intention of hurting their feelings for praising her. To Elyon, though, the love of the Light of Meridian seemed a bit cultish; and she had no intention of taking advantage of the people's admiration.

Just to be sure, Elyon asked one of the Galhots, a tall, robust soldier named Vathek, if this was "a holdover from my brother's regime? Like, did he make everyone who came to him bow and be all, 'Hail to the mighty Prince Phobos! May he rule forever and ever!'"

"Ohh! Your Majesty," cooed the sky-blue giant as he smiled like the sun. "It's_ nothing_ like that. The people do it because they _want_ to do it. They want to make sure that you know they appreciate you, and that's why they say 'Infinite brightness...' Now, Phobos—the suspicious old devil—he _despised_ that kind of fawning. Thought only potential traitors spoke such flowery things. We always addressed him briefly as 'Your Highness' or 'my Prince.'"

Thank. _Goodness_. The acclaim still seemed excessive, but at least it hadn't started with Phobos.

Thank Goodness, again, for meal times, especially supper! Each meal offered Elyon and her guests the opportunity to drop formalities, skip windy accolades, and be themselves.

Caleb smiled roguishly at her one evening. "Are you saying that you _don't_ enjoy occupying a station where you're revered, even feared?"

Blowing her tongue between her lips and rolling her eyes, Elyon replied, "Are you kidding me? It'd be one thing if I were back at Sheffield and was like, 'Hey! Alexandra Johnstone? Remember all the times you kept calling me "Homely Heidi" and kept asking me where my "dumpy dirndl" was?' _Zap! Zap! Pow!_ I'd turn her into a mountain goat. And there's no way I'm letting Uriah off the hook for all the times he made fun of me or bullied anybody else.

"But poor, unfortunate people who suffered under a tyrant for over _ten years_? Uh-uh! No way! I am _not_ going to torture a bunch of people who've already dealt with _enough_."

Wali chuckled and said, "Well! I'm glad I don't hail from this Sheffield. Sounds like you had your fair share of rapscallions, and I wouldn't want to be one of those blokes now that you're queen."

Clearing her throat, Eleanor glanced at her daughter and spoke authoritatively: "I assure everyone at this table and all the servants in the room, Her Majesty knows better than to exact revenge, even against people who have mocked and jeered at her."

Elyon smiled, giggled nervously, and shrank.

Another young Galhot, Aldarn, chuckled and said, "That's good to hear, captain! Her Majesty is a welcome change from what we've suffered all these years."

"She is a _renewal_ of that which should have _always been_."

Elyon glanced at this new speaker, whom sat beside Caleb. The man shared the same dark brown hair as the former rebel leader, as well as the shape of his eyes and the furrows in his brow. The scars that she could see were small but numerous, and more callouses covered his hands than even Caleb's hardened palms.

"Phobos was Disorder incarnate," continued the man. "He seized that which would have never been his, and he murdered the people to whom he owed his life."

"Father," said Caleb, "this isn't the time or place to discuss such things."

"Umm... Julian, is it?"

As soon as the man's dour eyes met Elyon's, she realised that though she was the most powerful being on Metamoor, she was nowhere near intimidating.

Clearing her throat and unfurling in her chair, Elyon spoke:

"I'm... I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you and to Metamoor. It was beyond horrible—"

"Why do you apologise, Your Majesty," asked Julian, "when you have nothing to apologise for? You did not turn tribe against tribe, city against city, in the name of some poisonous ideology. You did not steal land from its owners or pollute waters to kill people—_innocent_ people or unwitting creatures. You did not sack your mother's city or castle and murder her and the consort in cold blood. I'll not have you, the glorious Light of Meridian, accept the guilt of that... that—"

"Father, that's enough!" cried Caleb.

The young queen knew that Julian wasn't angry at her, yet her chest had tightened, and her stomach gurgled in anxiety, unable to break down any of her food.

"Julian..."

Aldarn spoke as gently as one could after such a passionate yet tactless display.

"I think Her Majesty meant to offer her condolences. She did not intend to apologise for atrocities that were beyond her control. She was extending her sympathies to you and to us."

"It's how earthlings speak, Father," added Caleb. "The phrase 'I'm sorry' means many things to them. And you must remember that Queen Elyon was raised on earth. She hadn't meant to offend you. It's as Aldarn has said: Her Majesty is offering condolences. And you are wrong to behave so poorly."

The fire in Julian's eyes smouldered to an eerie glow, and he sank morosely into his chair.

What a frightening display! Yet, if Elyon recalled Caleb's story correctly, his father had been a soldier in Queen Chesed's army during the end of her reign, a few years before Phobos had seized Meridian. Julian had cultivated a reputation as a good tactician and as charismatic and determined. While many soldiers in Queen Chesed's army had surrendered to Phobos's ferocious forces, Julian had convinced the more stalwart warriors to form the Rebellion.

His desire to defeat Phobos and restore the old order did not always translate into victory. Assumed dead after the Battle of Greywoods, Julian had actually become a slave in the underwater mines near the Ghoul-Shadowed Marshes. His identity had remained a secret from the enemy and from fellow slaves alike. Conditions in the mines had been brutal. When he had not been watching slaves die in gruesome ways or saving others from grotesque fates, he himself had been trying to avoid death.

_There are many other people, just like Cedric_, Elyon thought, _who need attention, who need healing._

Elyon rose and stood beside Julian, whom stiffened, his eyes shadowed beneath consternation.

"No, it's okay," said Elyon as she laid her hands gingerly upon his shoulders. "I'm not offended."

Still, the veteran soldier gazed in bewilderment and perturbation, and every eye in that chamber focused on the Queen.

Elyon envisioned that which gave her comfort and joy—the sun in springtime; knee-high grasses swaying with a gentle breeze; the veranda of her home back on earth where she sipped iced tea; her sketchbook opened wide as she drew birds and trees on its lonely pages. She took the comfort and joy of those memories, and she envisioned her own energy coalescing as rivulets, trickling from her to Julian.

"You have a right to be angry. And I hadn't meant to make you feel so uncomfortable and frustrated." She smiled and continued. "I'm young and still kind of—well, _very_ ignorant. There's a lot I haven't seen or experienced, and you've been through _a lot_. There's stuff you've seen that I don't know if I could handle it even being described to me, let alone having been_ in it_? Being the one who actually saw it and felt it and was subjected to it? That's beyond gross and terrible and _wrong_.

"But I wanna let you know that even though you've lived a harder life than me, I'm still here for you. Just because I can't fathom it doesn't mean you can't say what's on your mind. You should feel free to express yourself; constructively, of course, but you should be able to air out your grievances.

"I'm here for you, Julian. I wanna help you as best as I can, Light of Meridian or not."

An otherworldly yet tranquil silence echoed in the dining hall. The shadow in Julian's eyes seemed to vanish, like fog fleeing from the sunrise, and his eyes glistened with a light that only one source could bestow.

"Can... Can someone hand me a clean napkin?"

All eyes turned to a sniffling, teary-eyed Wali.

"I... I tried to use the one I have," he hiccoughed, "but... but I realised there's too much of that... that sticky sweet sauce, and—"

"Just use your hand, man," replied Aldarn, dabbing his watery eyelids with his fingers, "or your shirt."

Julian chuckled softly, voicelessly, before he took the Queen's hands and squeezed them tightly.

"Thank you, my Queen. For listening."

Elyon smiled gently and kissed his cheek, eliciting a sad but relieved sigh. Then she returned to her seat just as Caleb stretched one arm around his father and embraced him.

Then a long, phlegmatic snort disrupted the serenity, and all eyes turned to a sobbing Vathek.

"I'm sorry," he sniffled before snorting again. "I just... felt weepy all of a sudden."

Wali whimpered, "Thanks for ruining my appetite, you uncouth blackguard."

The entire chamber erupted into uproarious laughter, dotted with tears—the servants, Thomas, Eleanor, Caleb, even Julian. The dour air had slunk away to burden another company, yielding to the peace and gaiety heralded by the Light of Meridian.

* * *

**Annotations:**

_Dr. Gnone_ (character) a native Metamooran who fled to earth after Phobos seized control. I've named her after one of the three creators of the _W.I.T.C.H._ comics.

_Astruc dress_ (fashion) a fashion designer and line within the _W.I.T.C.H._ universe. I've named this after Thomas Astruc, famous storyboard artist who worked on Season 1 of the animated series.


	3. No Sad Goodbyes

**Chapter III**

"What do you _mean_ I still can't see him?"

Vathek stood before the door, sullenly avoiding eye contact with Her Majesty. His hesitance served only to feed her frustration.

Elyon whined, "Vathek! Kandrakar's coming to take Cedric who-_knows_-when. Maybe they'll let me come for visits or maybe they won't. No one's really told me when he's going to be released, and by the time that happens, I might be an ugly old woman."

Indeed, this Oracle guy, whoever he was, hadn't told Elyon—or, as far as she knew, her council—how long Cedric would remain incarcerated in Kandrakar. The Oracle had assured them that _Phobos_ wouldn't be released until he had "wholly comprehended the enormity of his actions."

In other words, probably never, Elyon had thought.

Meanwhile, Cedric's sentence had been more vague. He had committed serious crimes; neither he nor anyone else denied that, but his situation _was_ complex:

"Cedric has broken the yokes placed upon him by Phobos... and himself," the Oracle had said. "True, he cannot go back in time and unravel the evils which he has woven. True, still, Cedric _has helped_ those whom he had called his enemies. He gave comfort to those whom he used to terrorise. He gave rations to those whom he used to starve. And he placed his body at risk of unspeakable torments to reveal to the Light of Meridian the truth after all his lying...

"The Council of Kandrakar shall not ignore that Cedric has acquiesced to his fate in the Tower of Mists. We shall aid him in his _full_ rehabilitation from any further evil he may contemplate _and_ from any evil that has been performed against him.

"However, even I cannot see how long this shall take. I cannot say 'soon,' and I cannot say 'years,' though I shall say that his freedom shall come sooner as the regretful man he is now than if he had remained an arrogant transgressor."

In other words, when Kandrakar felt like it, Elyon had assumed.

According to those familiar with Kandrakar, such vague and poetic language was natural to its saintly residents, but to Elyon, that mystical air seemed pretentious. But hey! What did some earthling-raised adolescent know about communicating clearly? You know, aside from the occasions when she and her peers ran their mouths _way too much_?

Huffing, Elyon softened her face and voice and clasped her hands together.

"Vathek, I'm _begging_ you, just let me _see_ him. Just a peek! I miss _seeing_ him—I don't need to sit and ramble all day with him, especially if he's not in a talking mood. Just one... _tiny_... _peek_..."

"Vathek."

The butterflies in Elyon's heart awoke from their long slumber. That cool, graceful voice seemed untainted by illness or trauma.

"... let Her Majesty enter."

Vathek heaved a sigh and threw his hands in the air. Once he stepped aside, Elyon danced into the chamber as though she wore winged shoes.

Sitting upon a dark teal daybed, next to a tall window, was Cedric.

"_Cedric_! Cedric, I missed you _sooo_ much!" she exclaimed as she rushed to embrace him. Yes, he was _her_ Cedric, her golden-haired Cedric with the gorgeous violet eyes, those delightfully otherworldly eyes. She recognised the tenseness of his well-honed muscles and the steady serpentine inhalation and exhalation (though a handsome man, not a beast, he was).

"_Gaw-aw-awd! _I missed you!" she sobbed as she clung to him. Then she gazed into his eyes and said, "I was so worried about you! And when they wouldn't let me see you? Oh, God, it was _awful_!"

Cedric smiled and cocked his head.

"It's a pleasure to see you too, Your Highness," he said.

"Elyon—Elyon—_please_, just call me Elyon," she hiccoughed with a grin. "We're not in some stuffy meeting or anything. Just Elyon—or Ellie, even."

Cedric closed his eyes and bowed his head.

"As you wish, my Princess."

Elyon slumped backward, tipped her head, and furrowed her eyebrows. Something was _wrong_—_frightfully_ wrong. She hadn't expected Cedric to be at all cheerful. Why, she'd thought maybe he'd be more timid and depressed. _This_, however, was about as creepy as when she had first encountered the 'Infinite brightness to the Light' accolade.

As she stared at her friend, she noticed that his eyes no longer sparkled like polished amethyst. A shadow had cast a lead, dulling hue upon them. Meanwhile, his gorgeous hair had been cut above the shoulders, and it shewn more like fool's gold than true gold.

_And his aura? _she marked to herself. _I thought Julian was bad off! And he was, but _this_? It's like a bunch of punks were able to grab his energy and drag it for miles behind a car or something. Like, what the hell? What did Phobos _do_ to him?_

Cedric tipped his head this way and that way, like a hound patiently awaiting its master's commands. Elyon sighed. Perhaps her earlier exuberance had triggered his odd behaviour (though she couldn't hypothesize why). Nevertheless, she needed to tame her energy before cracking the case of whatever this was that had turned Cedric queerly docile.

"Um... I don't know if you know this yet," she began with a calmer voice, "but I'm actually _queen_ now."

"Really?" he asked with neither feigned nor quite genuine interest.

"Yeah. Had a _proper_ coronation and everything."

Cedric bowed his head and replied, "Congratulations, Your Excellency."

"Thank you," she said with a slight smile. "It was a _really_ awesome ceremony. _Really_. And, um... Still, it wasn't quite a party without you there."

As she reached to gently touch his face, Cedric flinched and tensed.

"You look better now, though," she continued. "Heh! And Vathek didn't want me to see you.

"Hey! Are you able to transform again? I mean, now that Phobos is locked away?"

Cedric's vacant gaze drifted to the floor. His silence disheartened Elyon, but she continued to remind herself: _This is still Cedric. He's still recovering from being in prison, but who he is? Deep down in his heart? That _hasn't_ changed. He's gonna be okay, he's gonna be okay, he's gonna be—_

"Cedric?" she wondered, and finally, he managed to look into her eyes again. Not one ounce of life had been stirred.

_What did they do to him? _What the _hell_ had happened to him in Cavigor Prison? Did she even want to know, if _this_ is what it had done to him—to _hundreds_ of other prisons? God, Phobos was a monster! He was more of a monster in his heart than Cedric was as a snake-man. How she wanted to know! Yet she knew the truth might shatter her into a million pieces.

Elyon's anger sparked to life between her fingers, and Cedric recoiled. No, she wasn't going to hurt him. He had been through enough. Enough was a _freakin'_ enough, she thought.

The cursed shape-shifter gasped as Elyon placed both her hands upon his cheeks. He whimpered and gasped and coughed. He stuttered as he apologised for offending her and begged her to release him. But the Light of Meridian could not be discouraged from what she had determined:

"_Whatever Phobos has done to you, I'm undoing it. Whatever he's taken from you, I'm giving it back to you because it is yours... _by... right_. If I can't heal you from everything that's been done to you, I at least desire _this_ and will make it so. So says the Light of Meridian!_"

As she wove her enchantment, the darkness which her brother had embedded pushed against her magic. It snarled and spat; it growled and shoved; but Elyon pushed even harder. Her intention was stronger than Phobos's now. She refused to yield to the daemonical magic that had stripped Cedric of his birth right. By whatever Gods or Oracles could hear her, her endeavor would prevail.

A blue light shewn between the sovereign healer and her terrified patient. The light grew instantly, both its size and brightness, until all that Elyon saw was its brilliance, though her eyes felt no pain or even strain. And before the light fully dissipated, she felt that the curse had already evanesced.

As guards rushed to Cedric's chamber, and as Elyon collapsed upon the daybed, she realised that Cedric lay on the ground, knocked many feet from her, moaning softly. Vathek and two other guards clamoured feverishly around their queen, helping her to her feet, while another four aimed their weapons at the unconscious shape-shifter. Elyon begged them to step back, for he had not harmed her. She had been attempting to heal him.

"Get back, I said!" she commanded as she fell to her knees beside Cedric. Leaning closely to him, she stroked his head and whispered to him, pleading with him to awaken. After the tense minutes passed, Cedric stirred, his breathing hitched, his eyes glazed as he gazed wearily around the chamber.

His moaning rose steadily to terrible wail. His brow touched his knees as he wept, and every time Elyon touched him, he flinched and begged her to leave.

Eyes glossy at her failure, Elyon stood and shambled to join her guards.

"Come on," she commanded, "let's just leave him alone."

The young queen cursed to herself._ I thought I had it! Dammit, dammit! All I wanted to do was fix one thing—_one thing_. Is that so wrong? I didn't expect to heal Cedric from _all_ his trauma. I just want him to be able to shape-shift again. Is that so freakin' wrong, huh? Is that so _freakin' wrong_?!_

To add to her guilt, for all she knew, she had added trauma upon trauma. What a fool she was! What an adolescent fool!

That night, Elyon could only push her food in circles around her plate. Attempts by Alborn and Miriadel to learn of her day were met by sharp barks that she was in no mood to talk. At least Vathek, without opening his big mouth, supported her by looking each adopted parent in the eye and shaking his head.

Of course, why _should_ she have a moment of peace, with that servant rushing in? What did they want? she demanded.

"Lord... Lord Cedric..." he panted. "He's... He's changed into an Aaronag!"

The colour rushed from Alborn's face. "He did _what_?"

Ceasing her mindless tracing, Elyon sat tall in her chair, her eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Wha... What did you say?"

Leaping to her feet, Miriadel asked in alarm, "Has he hurt anyone? I-is he trying to escape?"

"No, Captain," replied the servant. "We're actually... not sure why he transformed and... _isn't_ doing much else. He was _very_ rude, though, when he demanded we leave him be. I'm quite certain he was mumbling expletives in his native tongue."

While the rest of her dinner guests murmured in alarm, Elyon smiled brightly at Vathek, whom gaped in marvel, and at Caleb, whom smirked triumphantly in shared gladness.

* * *

In dogged contradiction of her councillors' advice, Elyon refused to make Cedric's departure a public spectacle.

"Your Majesty, it isn't a _spectacle_," one had insisted. "The people of Meridian want to see for themselves that he who served as the dreaded general and favourite to the Archenemy is, indeed, on his way to Kandrakar."

"And the best place to do that," had chimed another, "is in the vast, yet still easily secured, Pentecost Square."

The queen had sneered. "_Along with a procession_... from the castle... to the square, complete with thousands of people cheering and jeering and _potentially_ someone who'll take the opportunity to assassinate him. Within full view of _meee..._ and my guards."

The councillors hummed and hawed, their grins crooked with nervousness. Queen Elyon denied their request. The departure would proceed _her_ way with fifty witnesses, each considered reliable throughout Meridian, summoned to the Great Hall. As Kandrakar had seized Phobos with haste, Kandrakar would receive Cedric with no fanfare (or thrown vegetables) preceding.

Among the fifty summoned were Alborn and Miriadel. Aldarn and Julian had come, and Vathek had brought fellow defectors—all robust, tall, scarred, and stony-faced men—to bid Cedric farewell and good luck. Caleb had not yet arrived, for he had gone to speak with Cedric at length for a final time.

While she waited, Elyon asked, "Did my mother—my _birth_ mother—ever go to Kandrakar?"

"Not to my knowledge," replied Miriadel. "I'm not aware of any reason why the sacred council would have summoned her. Even during the war, she mostly communicated with Kandrakar through the other Guardians."

"Other Guardians?" wondered Elyon.

"The ones before your friends," said Alborn.

"We weren't around yet when they fought alongside Queen Chesed. But something went awry, I guess. I've never asked Yan Lin what happened, but then again, that's one of those things you just _don't suddenly_ bring up to a former combatant."

Elyon hummed. She would have loved to ask Yan Lin if she remembered her mother and what she had been like. Then again, thinking about the deceased queen might stir other memories, ones that ought to remain slumbering.

"Oh, look! A portal!" exclaimed Elyon.

In the middle of the Great Hall appeared a vast, swirling energy coloured lavender and carnation pink. Guards in white armour and white robes stepped forth and bowed before Elyon, whom curtseyed in return. These were the guards of the Tower of Mists, Cedric's new, indefinite home. The Meridian assemblage bowed, and a young Galhot servant escorted the guards to Cedric's chamber.

The palpitations of Elyon's heart drowned the ambient sounds in the Great Hall. She hoped that Cedric was ready—_really_ ready; actually, genuinely, one hundred percent ready. They wouldn't drag him kicking and screaming to Kandrakar if he weren't ready. Right? Kandrakar was supposed to be a peaceful place. Even the Tower of Mists served for more than a place of punishment. It included rehabilitation. And that's what Cedric was getting because that's what he wanted, and that's what Kandrakar wanted. He was going to be okay, he was going to be okay, _he was going to be_—

"Your Majesty," whispered Miriadel, "Cedric has arrived."

Elyon squeaked and brushed herself down.

With Caleb to his right and the guards of Kandrakar surrounding them both was Cedric, decked in a pale blue robe trimmed with royal blue and embroidered with gold. He held his head high, and as Elyon locked eyes with him, she recognised the shine she hadn't seen in weeks. _This_ was for sure her Cedric, the one with the hypnotic gaze and the soft, nevertheless confident smile.

As the first of his well-wishers queued before the portal, the young queen stepped toward him and raised her arms to embrace him.

"Ah! Your Majesty!" exclaimed the traditionalists. "What are you—"

"_Shhh!_"

Caleb would have none of their protest, and Elyon didn't care if they did. Cedric was her friend, as dear to her as Cornelia was. He was more of a brother to her than her own blood brother, and she had every right to bid him farewell as she saw fit.

"I never thanked you," began Cedric, "for returning the Gift of O'hiyowo to me."

Elyon's laughter hitched in her throat, and as she wiped the tears from her eyes, she replied, "What are Lights of Meridian for?"

The smile on his face was _gorgeous._ It was a seam of a smile but still so utterly beautiful.

"Thank you, my Queen," he said, and he kissed her hand.

If Elyon had any words left for him, they had vanished in a comical whirl of supressed excitement. She laid that hand upon her breast and covered it with the other, nursing the brotherly warmth that radiated from it, heedless of the good-byes that the queue issued Cedric. And when he vanished through the portal with the guards from Kandrakar, so too did that warmth.

"Oh!" exclaimed Miriadel as her daughter clung to her. The captain and Alborn enveloped her with parental love and assured her that in time, she could perhaps visit Cedric.

She hoped so. She really hoped so.

"Don't worry, my Queen," said Caleb. "Vathek and I will make sure he's making progess when we visit him."

Indeed, when forty days came to pass, a party from Meridian would set forth for the Tower of Mists to evaluate Cedric. (Phobos had transgressed so iniquitously and felt such an absence of remorse, Meridian had deemed him unworthy and too dangerous for such calls.) Though the date of his freedom remained unknown, the better his evaluations, the sooner his release.

"Thank you, Caleb," said Elyon, and so began the long countdown to the first of many visits.

* * *

**Annotations:**

_Pentecost Square_ (place) named after the Pentecost Oath, sworn by King Arthur's knights at the Round Table every Pentecost. The author's choice of name originates from legends that Escanor was of King Arthur's time. He and other humans might have brought names and concepts from Earth to Metamoor.


	4. Visiting Hours

**Chapter IV**

With Cedric secure in Kandrakar, Caleb could focus on the immediate pressing matters within Meridian.

Firstly he and the Army of the Light of Meridian needed to contend against the defiance of Phobos's still-free allies.

Secondly, groups who had owed neither Phobos nor the rebellion allegiance stirred sedition; and while Phobos had exercised brutal authority to keep them in line, these people grew truculent under the inexperienced queen.

Finally, Caleb had to deal with drawing up and enforcing agreements with suspicious foes-turned-(tentative)-allies. This was the part after any conflict that some parties found disagreeable but necessary to move forward. Some of the agreements left a foul taste in the mouths of some former rebels, including Caleb, but in exchange for immunity from prosecution, these old foes would cooperate with and aid the army.

But for damned sure, immunity did not mean an erasure of their crimes.

Briefly put, action had not jarred to a halt after Phobos was deposed. Caleb and his soldiers remained thoroughly active, more so since the Guardians could no longer help.

"I don't understand," complained a former rebel one day, "why Kandrakar doesn't make it so the Guardians can travel more easily between worlds."

"I hear what you're saying," Caleb replied, "but the Guardians have completed their mission. They're not obligated to do any more than that, and besides, they have their own lives to live on Earth.

"As for us, we can't depend on the Guardians for everything. We have to take our destiny back into our own hands."

"If only they'd chosen to live here," remarked another soldier.

"Indeed!" quipped a third. "As far as I'm concerned, they've earned the right to call themselves, just like the glorious Five Saviours did."

"And if not that," said the previous soldier, "they really ought to be able to visit whenever they'd like."

Caleb smiled and suggested, "Perhaps one day Kandrakar shall let it be so."

Then his friend Aldarn grinned and said, "Yes, and let our general see his beloved dryad again."

Of course. Cornelia.

Not that prior to being introduced to her, Caleb hadn't tried to court the young women of Meridian. Between leading carefully-coordinated raids, dodging capture, and nearly having his skull split with an axe, Caleb had seized the few moments of respite to flirt with maidens and court a few whom spared an afternoon to be with him. Cornelia, though—Cornelia had been a different lass altogether.

That earthling girl could be shallow, dreadfully shallow, easily off-put by that which she deemed unstylish or untrendy. Her confidence could morph into biting arrogance and stubbornness, and one would at first impression wonder how she came to have the type of friends that she had.

However, Cornelia was loyal, and she could be loving. She was fiercely protective of her friends and nearly had strangled Caleb for not telling Princes Elyon the truth sooner. In matters of romance, she had continued to flirt with other lads but meant nothing more by it, for she teased like a nymph but returned always to Caleb.

Furthermore, the strong love that they'd felt for one another had never interfered with the rebellion or threatened to jeopardise it.

_Humph! Not like with Cedric,_ thought Caleb.

Random memories of Cornelia could stray into memories of _him_, each with their golden hair and beautiful skin.

Gods! How lucky Caleb was that they were gone—not that they annoyed him. Sometimes, though, they had pleased him too much to the point of distraction.

Cedric had been much worse. One could always refocus to the task at hand with Cornelia because she shared the desire to finish it, but Cedric? By the Gods! That man... The shape-shifter had such an otherworldly, Fae-like aura when he walked around in his Escanor body. He enchanted everyone whom gazed upon him. The man was a danger to one's soul!

_But is that _really_ his fault?_ wondered Caleb. Had it really been Cedric's fault when herds of earthling girls had clamoured near and inside his book shop, sneaking peeks at him? Had Cedric been at fault when Phobos's guards had undressed him with their eyes and imagined him on hands and knees? Had Cedric intended to trigger Caleb's bouts of uncomfortable introspection?

Caleb could never blame his hypnosis on Cedric. Caleb had placed the enchantment on himself, for though Cedric was a handsome specimen, he was not responsible for how people treated him after they simply gazed upon him.

As the days rolled by, with Cedric locked far from Caleb, the young man had some time to realise that what had begun as business, then lust had morphed into something more tender but also more solemn, something that roused the passion in his young heart but also fear, if some one discovered his secret.

* * *

Forty days had passed since Cedric's departure. On morning of this fortieth day, Caleb awoke when Gideon, his father's prized Gohmor gaogao, managed to hop atop the roof _again_ and commence his bleating and warbling.

"_Ohhh, my Go-o-odsss,_" groaned Caleb, burying his face in the pillow.

Caleb had just finished a taxing night of negotiations with one of the leaders of the Silver-Blooded Elves, a people whom had had a relatively good relationship with Phobos. Though willing to submit to Queen Elyon's rule, the Elves were daemonically uppity and nit-picky. If Caleb hadn't adjourned and scheduled future talks, the bastards would have kept him until sunrise. And how the devil was he to visit Kandrakar, looking a dishevelled dog?

Gritting his teeth and throwing off his blankets, Caleb marched to the window, threw open the shudders, and cried, "Shut up! Shut up! _Gideon!_"

The Gohmor gaogao ceased his bleating, and he warbled innocently at the furious young general.

Inhaling a steady breath and exhaling just as steady, a _slightly_ calmer Caleb asked: "Gideon, where's _maa'mers_?"

The creature hopped from the roof and gazed at Caleb, all four of its ears perked as it tipped its head.

The young man smirked and asked again, "Where is your _maa'mers_?" Then he bleated to the stud, "_Maa-aa-aa'me-e-ers!_"

Gideon trotted in circles and dashed around the property, searching for Julian. With a triumphant chuckle, the weary young general returned to his cozy bed...

... only to have that blasted gaogao bleat and warble _much louder at his window!_

"Son of a devil _and_ a bitch!" he cursed as he threw off his blankets again. With a huff, Caleb marched to his father's room to wake him.

Tapping on the jamb to his father's bedroom, Caleb slipped inside and shook the older man gently.

"Father? Father, the alarm to wake us up keeps going off near _my_ room."

Julian stretched beneath his blankets and yawned. He smiled and replied, "Gideon likes to sing to you at sunrise."

Caleb sighed. "After the long night I had last night? It's less charming and more... puts me in the mood for a broth rich in gaogao meat."

His father chuckled and finally sat tall, stretching to the ceiling.

Honestly, Caleb couldn't castigate his father for going back to gaogao-herding. Before the rebellion, when Julian had not been training with the Queen's army, gaogao-herding had provided a stable source of income. During the rebellion, Julian had used it to play like a simple farmer, for Phobos hadn't acquired the names of all the Queen's soldiers from before he had taken the city. Nowadays his father used gaogao-herding as a way of managing his war- and slavery-induced distress; for though Queen Elyon's power had healed him tremendously, it had been 'tremendously,' not 'wholly.'

"Caleb, Gideon is fond of you. He's usually the first one to greet you when you come home."

"Hoho! Yes, it's a wonderful greeting," chuckled Caleb, "having him try to butt me in the gut."

Julian patted Caleb on the shoulder as he slid out of bed.

"I hope you keep that good humour," continued the young general, "when I tell you I won't be joining you this morning. I'm still exhausted after all those hours of going _back and forth_ with Earl What's-His-Face."

"You mean Enyus, Lord Athelstane is a complete bastard when it comes to hammering out agreements?"

"I thought it was 'Anus, Lord Arsehole-stain.'"

The men chuckled heartily before parting ways, with Julian bidding his son sleep well for a few more hours. Caleb needed to look his best for the saints of Kandrakar rather than fatigued and covered in muck and gaogao hairs.

As Caleb slipped back into his sheets, he didn't dwell on his future meeting with ancient ascetics, whom had long since forsaken passion for a higher purpose. His mind turned to him for whom this visit was designated.

_I'm glad I won't be by myself,_ thought Caleb, _not that Kandrakar's security would let him out of sight._

Nevertheless, with other members of Queen Elyon's court visiting Lord Cedric to check on his rehabilitation, Caleb was less inclined to behave foolishly.

Eventually, the young delegate pried himself from his bed for a final time that morning. He washed himself thoroughly and dressed in an ensemble worthy of attendance at the Altar of Saint-King Escanor. Then he fetched his horse from the field, bid his father adieu, and rode to the castle.

* * *

Vathek had arrived in the Great Hall before the other delegates, followed by a fellow defector named Bercilak. One of the queen's rescuers, a motherly Galhot woman named Galgheita, would also attend. Alborn would lead the delegation to the Tower of Mists on this visit (and most others). Lastly would join a Galtroh defector named Tynar, a soldier whom had replaced Vathek when Vathek had escaped.

Of this Tynar, Caleb had learned that he was one of the few soldiers and servants in the castle that Cedric had trusted with the truth: that all Phobos had fought for was stolen. Phobos had not fought to abolish an oppressive matriarchy. He had exploited any wrongdoings, small and large committed by Escanors and their Galhot allies, to justify a violent usurpation. Tynar and his people had been carefully-played pawns.

Tynar had heeded Cedric, and he had managed to convince other men and servants to heed.

So, during this visit, he desired to know how Cedric fared.

"... especially after I failed to protect him."

Vathek rubbed the back of one of his shoulders and said, "It wasn't your fault. Phobos had what he wanted and so... found no more use for him."

"But... But everything that happened in the dungeons..." mourned the veteran before he looked this way and that for the queen. Queen Elyon knew that Cedric had been tortured, but no one had told her how and to what extent. Lowering his voice, Tynar continued:

"If only I had _moved_ him or put him in the oubliette—"

"Without Phobos' permission? You'd've been gaoled in a heartbeat," marked Caleb. "Cedric understood what he was risking. He did what was right regardless."

Tynar nodded, but his head hung low.

Caleb couldn't view such guilt as a fault; for he, too, had wondered many nights what he could have done differently to save Elyon without sacrificing Cedric to a dire fate. His wondering would sometimes wander into: _What if the _Gods_ desired that he receive his fate? For all the ills he did commit against Meridian?_ Then Caleb would snarl and curse at himself, his gorge rising.

_Perhaps I'm naïve. Maybe not enough of a man. But I don't think even _Phobos_ deserves torment for all that he's done_._ What the hell would it even accomplish?_

"I still feel as though I'm to blame," continued Tynar. "I was the General of the Wardens. I could have done _something_."

"No," said Vathek, shaking his head. "_You_ are _not_ to blame. You did what was in your power to do at the time, and sadly, that did _not_ include freeing Cedric.

"_Phobos_ is to blame for everything, for all the misery that we've suffered. And those who actually laid their hands on Cedric? They'll talk, if they haven't already. They'll brag about what they've done to someone with half a conscience, and when their boast and their names finally reach us, I'll be the first to make them fear for the skin around their stones."

Poor Tynar. Neither Caleb nor Vathek could comfort him further.

_He needs to work on his guilt his way_, thought Caleb as he glanced the clock.

As the minutes became an hour, Her Majesty arrived with her entourage, which almost always included Alborn and Miriadel. As the hour crept to two hours, Galgheita arrived, changing from an Escanor to a Galhot, fretting over the wrinkles in the robe she had chosen for Kandrakar.

Suddenly, an otherworldly breeze swirled in the middle of the Great Hall. A small ball of mallow-coloured energy hovered in the middle, and the assemblage gave it a wide berth as it developed into a portal.

Out of the portal stepped a tiny fellow, only one head taller than Blunk. He was decked in a white robe with a faint blue-green hue. The structure of his face reminded Caleb of Yan Lin crossed with a feline, thanks largely to his tall ears and long whiskers.

"Is Little Brother Alborn here?" asked the saint with a falsetto voice.

Alborn stepped forth and bowed. "I am he, Your Holiness."

The saint smiled. "Now, now! I appreciate the deference, but Hiboshé is my name. Simply my name shall do."

"Of course, Your Holiness," replied Alborn. "I mean, Hiboshé!"

The saint laughed jollily, his mirth indeed giving off an aura like Yan Lin. He bade the delegation queue up and follow him through the portal, and after each delegate bade Queen Elyon farewell, they one-by-one entered Kandrakar.

* * *

Faint whispers echoed through the unblemished marmorean halls, which towered around the delegates and dazzled them with their elaborate reliefs. No shadow cut harshly but instead fell more gently than the first-fallen snow. The air smelled purer than a day cleansed by rain showers.

"By the Five Saviours!" gasped Bercilak. "Oh! Forgive me, lordship! I did not mean to profane."

"It's a natural reaction from newcomers, little brother," said Hiboshé. "I merely bid you and everyone, for that matter, contain your excitement until we reach the Tower of Mists. We have many sisters and brothers deep in meditation."

"Of course, sacred one," replied Bercilak with a bow.

Thus far Caleb more-than-liked what he saw. Hiboshé seemed to be a jolly saint, and these halls through which they stepped were pristine and tranquil. Any fire in Caleb's heart, whether passion or animosity, seemed to be quelled in this realm awash with sacred magic, and he felt even more at ease when he peered into doorless chambers, where small gatherings sat in silence or susurrated harmoniously.

The delegation exited the fortress of Kandrakar, where an unseen source of light illuminated the realm, and thick, puffy clouds floated interminably. As they drew closer to the Tower of Mists, Hiboshé advised, "Stick to the path, little sister and brothers. It's wide enough, but it also winds, and there are no rails. If you fall off, you shall tumble through the æther, and if we're not swift to rescue you, it can take a good few centuries before we can get you back."

"Cen... _Centuries_?" exclaimed Caleb.

The feline little man nodded.

"Oh! You won't age or anything," he continued. "No hunger, no thirst, no illness, no death. Might lose a touch of your sanity, though. But that's partly why we created the Cosmos of Abeyance."

Caleb was certain he wasn't the only one to blanch and feel a little ill, for everyone walked more tightly together, and none looked up at the Tower of Mists until Hiboshé assured them it was safe to do so.

The bottom of building glistened and gleamed like the finest aquamarine, but as Caleb craned his neck, it transitioned into a dismal slate blue. Dark clouds concealed the topmost floors. As for its texture, it reminded Caleb of a Threban dragon's armour, for the artisans had carved fearsome curved spikes along its walls, and they had designed the parapet similarly.

Up the stairs to the entrance Hiboshé led them, and they arrived before a golden hall. The delegates marvelled before Hiboshé explained:

"This hall is called the Gauge of the Heart. There is potent magic in here that will delve into each and every heart; and if anyone intends to assault a guard or any inmate..."

He paused, and his face looked as grave as Yan Lin's when a situation was devoid of all good humour.

"... what shall befall you, I haven't the heart to describe. But if anyone in this party intends to assault Cedric or any other within the Tower of Mists, then it is better that you remain on the steps and wait. And so, I ask: Do any of you intend to assault Cedric or anyone else within the Tower?"

The delegation fell silent, and they gazed at each other.

Caleb knew that for sure Vathek and Tynar were least likely to reach over a table and strangle the old serpent. Bercilak seemed harmless thus far, and Galgheita seemed the type to confront with words, not fists. That left himself (a definite 'No') and Alborn.

"I'll admit," began Elyon's adopted father, "Cedric has done _plenty_ to get under my skin; and even though my daught—my _queen_ loves him like an older brother, I still haven't quite forgiven him."

Galgheita reached for his back and patted and rubbed it. Alborn smiled sadly and glanced at her.

Hiboshé repeated his question: "Little Brother Alborn, do you feel that you might assault Cedric? For if you hold such a sentiment, and if you pass through this hall, the magic within shall act accordingly to drive you out if it does not kill you first."

"Lord Hiboshé," said Galgheita, "you must understand: Alborn and I and our comrade Miriadel worked _hard_ to keep Elyon secret and safe. Then Cedric comes along, and after lying to Caleb about being fully-invested in the rebellion, he kidnaps Elyon and tries to turn her against us."

Caleb bowed his head. She wasn't necessarily wrong, but that wasn't the whole story.

"Perhaps it would be better if you remained on the steps, little brother," said Hiboshé. "Though I cannot force you to remain, if you follow us through the Gauge of the Heart, I cannot guarantee your safety."

Alborn bowed his head and turned to leave.

"Now, hold on," said Caleb as he laid a hand upon his shoulder. He turned to Hiboshé and said, "I know Alborn. He's not violent. Yes, he can get frustrated, and that frustration can turn to anger, but I don't think he's going to lash out at Cedric. Not now, anyway. And if anything, _I_ probably have the longest list of grievances against the old viper out of everyone here. Maybe not by much, but it's enough. And _I_ have _zero_ intention of lifting a finger against him."

"It is not I who judges but the—"

"I know. I know. It's the hall... which by the way, thanks for letting us know _now_ rather than _before_ we got to Kandrakar."

Caleb wasn't sure who in the party looked more flustered: his fellow delegates, drained of the colour in their faces, or Hiboshé, who flushed at his misstep and began to clear his throat.

"Yes! Well..."

Then Caleb gazed at Alborn and asked, "Do you _really_ think you're gonna do him harm? _Really?_ Because if that's the case, I'll turn back with you because I _know_ I haven't got a chance in the Inferno of passing through there alive."

Alborn smiled and chuckled sadly.

"If you shall walk arm-in-arm with me to support me, I shall walk down that hall with you."

They had made their decision, and Hiboshé spoke no more. He led the delegation into the Gauge of the Heart.

The tranquillity that Caleb had felt in the fortress vanished. The air felt thicker, and his chest felt cramped, as though he were being smothered. He walked slowly by Alborn's side and focused on the four guards, which stood at the end of the hall, to keep his attention off his sudden discomfort.

_I feel like sitting down,_ he thought. _My eyes... My vision's getting a little blurry_.

His comrades also seemed distress, and any time one strayed a little bit to the left or right, they immediately corrected themselves, staying as fixed in the centre as possible.

_Oh, Gods! The walls! It's the walls and the ceiling!_

Numerous eyes had been embossed upon the golden surface. The artisans, whoever they'd been, had embossed eyes of uncanny realism, some with eyelids, others without, each one unpaired, all spread or cramped, and each one gazing eternally, probing, prying, _terrifying_.

_I'm glad the girls and the queen aren't here,_ he thought.

Then he glanced at Alborn, whose brow was beaded with sweat, his head nodding with weariness.

"Come on, Alborn," said Caleb, and he moved his arm around Alborn's back and held his hand with his free hand. "Almost at the end."

Many steps more, and they were safely on the other side. Two of the guards tended to Alborn as he slumped against the wall, while Caleb checked on his fellow delegates.

"It was unnerving to say the least," said Vathek, "but I think we're okay."

"How you doing, Alborn?" asked Caleb as he turned back to the commander.

"Well... I feel like... I just about had a heart attack," he said, rubbing his left arm. Then he smiled wryly and added, "Makes me miss Earth, with their technologically-advanced medicine and all."

Recovering some normality, the delegation followed Hiboshé through corridors more akin to those in the fortress. He guided them to a great chamber with smooth walls painted in a colour and pattern reminiscent of verdigris. Numerous colourful cushions littered the bamboo floor, and short tables, such as the tea tables used by the Ba Sho Djí caravans, stood here and there.

As Caleb gazed throughout the chamber, he recognised one of two figures. He saw the gleam of golden hair, and he saw the flash of golden skin, healthful and unmarred by new abuse.

_Thank the Gods, they treat him right_, he thought with a sigh.

When crystalline violet eyes met with Caleb's, the young man's heart skipped, and he restrained himself from dashing into the chamber to scoop the fair shape-shifter into his arms. Instead, he channelled his youthful energy into an informal, rather earthling, greeting:

"Hey, Cedric! How's it goin'?"

* * *

**Annotations**

_the glorious Five Saviours_ (historical) Escanor the Brave, Hoël, Didier, Grendal, and Brandis.

_maa'mers_ (Galhotian) 1. master. 2. patriarch, leader.


	5. All the Stupid Things Done

**Chapter V**

Cedric smiled and chuckled. Caleb knew that greeting with its charming earthling tone would tickle his amusement.

Rising before the delegation, Cedric bowed and welcomed them.

"I am honoured beyond description that you've come." Then he gestured to the figure beside him and said, "Allow me to introduce to you to the Chief Warden of the Tower of Mists, Lord Endarno."

An older man, decked in the habit of a council member of Kandrakar, rose and tipped his head toward the delegates. His face was feline though not to the degree of Hiboshé's, and his pointed ears stood more like a Silver-Blooded Elf's rather than the caricature of a cat. The man's whiskers were the whiskers of an Escanor: a reaching mustache and a well-groomed goatee. His long ashen hair had been woven into dreadlocks, and long golden rings decorated each rope.

He seemed handsome for his apparent age (_He's probably centuries old_, assumed Caleb, _but he could pass for one of my father's peers._). He also seemed handsome for a saint (not that saints were required by some unwritten law to look like balding grandfathers or hunched grandmothers). Not even the scars on his face diminished—

_Scars?_ Caleb squinted. No, his eyes weren't lying to him. Three cruel jagged scars ran from his forehead across his left eye and down his cheek. They looked to be years old. Caleb wondered how Endarno had received his wounds and why Kandrakar, a place associated with the blemish-free, had not healed him.

"Welcome, little sister and little brothers," said Endarno. "I am pleased that you are come. How fare you?"

"We're quite well now, Your Excellency," replied Alborn with a slight bow. "We're very honoured to be here."

Endarno extended an arm and bade the delegation join them. Caleb seized one of the cushions closest to Cedric, earning his adoring smile.

"Forty days on your world have passed," began Endarno, "too soon, I must confess, in Little Brother Cedric's rehabilitation to release him. And bare this in mind: that his rehabilitation shall last as long as he lives, though he shall not always live in the Tower."

Caleb glanced at Alborn and watched his brows furrow.

"I'm afraid I'm a little confused," admitted the commander. "What'd you mean by Cedric's rehabilitation will last a lifetime? I mean, if that's the case, some people might wonder 'Why release him at all?'"

Cedric lifted his nose but held his tongue. Endarno replied, "You are familiar with, from your time on Earth, the different forms of rehabilitation? It is a process not limited to one facility.

"Cedric is like a child wounded by the very fire he lit. The child must receive care for both his body and his mind, including a tending to the thought process that led him to be rash. And as such a child must eventually return home, Cedric must inevitably return to Metamoor."

"And I assume Cedric still remains sincere about his goal?"

Endarno cocked his head. "Goal?"

"To have Kandrakar help perfect his morals, so he won't try anything like this in the future."

Cedric narrowed his eyes, and his pride tugged at the corner of his lips, creating an ugly snarl.

Endarno spoke, "If you mean 'hone' his morals, in this case so that they align with _yours_, that is not what Kandrakar intends. Rather, we desire that he re-learn to think, to be more contemplative, to practice _mindfulness._ We do not intend that Cedric shall mindlessly obey when one tells him 'Obey!' or when one alleges 'This is moral, while that is immoral.' He shall keep the core of his mind but _not_ the _processes_ that led him to commit the atrocities and crimes that he has committed."

Alborn hummed and rested his chin upon his folded hand.

"In other words," said Galgheita, "you're teaching him how to think critically."

"Yes," replied Endarno.

"As long as it gets him to realise—_fully_ realise—what he did was beyond horrible," said Alborn, "and that he'll never even _think_ to do anything like it again."

The old general huffed and finally spoke:

"Humph! I assure you, _commander_, I'm making satisfactory progess. It's not perfect, as Lord Endarno already said, as there are certain things they want me to do and certain things they want me to let go of, which I'm not comfortable doing so _yet. _But I'll not sit here and be berated with my past. I _know_ what I have done. I _don't_ need reminding."

_Ah, hell..._ Caleb looked back and forth between the former foes. What was that earlier about kids setting fires? Because the fire in Alborn's eyes _had_ been contained in a nice, little hearth, but oh, no! Cedric just _had_ to play with the coals!

Alborn harrumphed and replied, "Lord Cedric, I'm civil with you for Elyon's sake. I'm civil with you because Caleb here"—he tipped his head toward the young general—"has told me certain _things_ about you. Not just what happened to you as of late but also... _past things_."

Cedric's eyes widened, and he looked at Caleb. The youth gazed sadly at him.

Alborn continued: "And I can understand that you were afraid that history was going to repeat itself on you. Fine..." He coughed and cleared his throat. "I get it, you know. It's still _very hard_ to wrap my head around what happened, but fine. But... But damn it! If you wanted revenge, if you wanted justice, why didn't you go through the _proper_ channels? Why _this_? Why the war—why _Phobos_? How do you go from being so justified, Lord Cedric, to becoming a monster? Becoming a_ murderer_? Aiding and abetting the usurpation of the throne? How is that—how's that even a thing?

"My Gods, Cedric, _why?_ I would _love_ to give you the benefit of the doubt, just like Caleb here, just like Elyon; but you kidnapped her_ after_ promising Caleb that you would tell the truth. My Queen, Chesed's daughter—that beautiful baby girl that _I_ helped raise! On top of the mountain of other crimes you committed! _I_ can't forget a damned thing, and I'm afraid of you either forgetting what you did or even ignoring it."

While Alborn had poured his grief upon Cedric, the old general's head sunk slowly to one side. He had no justification—hell, even Caleb, with all his sympathy for Cedric's past, could only look at that past and say, _That's the reason, but it's not an excuse._

"I...uh... would it be presumptuous of me to speak my mind?" asked Tynar.

Endarno bowed his head to him and replied, "If it is germaine, speak."

The Galtroh inhaled and exhaled steadily. For such a burly, rough-looking gent, Tynar seemed docile, meek.

_Even-tempered is probably the better word_, thought Caleb.

"I, um... I know how Alborn feels, even though I did fight for Phobos. Probably _because_ I did fight for Phobos, so I've seen what my tribesmen. I can back up how Alborn feels. And many times my men were acting on Lord Cedric's orders. But then Lord Cedric is also the one who approached me and told me the truth. He told me that everything Prince Phobos had told my people was a lie. Any grievances we had? He didn't care whether we were in the right or in the wrong when it came to old conflicts with the Galhots and Escanors. He just wanted a fierce fighting force, and we were it. But he never _really_ cared about us.

"All those things... that we did..."

Tynar sucked the air between his teeth and bowed his head.

"... _we_ did them. We did so... so many horrible things. Things that I don't see how _anyone_ could forgive us, and in that, I know how Cedric feels—about wanting to forget."

Endarno corrected him, "Cedric has not said that he wants to forget his crimes."

"I know, I know," said Tynar, "but when you do so many horrible things, you really don't need other people constantly reminding you, reminding you about things you're already thinking about; thinking about what you did or _failed to do_."

The veteran bowed his head as his tears welled in his eyes. Bercilak and Vathek sat closer to him, hands upon his back as he wept. Tynar snorted, wiped the tears from his eyes, and gazed at Cedric.

"I'm sorry," he said. "So sorry... I failed you when you were thrown in the dungeon, and I wondered, 'How can I get him out without being found out?' I didn't think _hard_ enough, _fast_ enough, and I couldn't... couldn't always be there to make sure no one was... was..."

Caleb rose and placed a hand upon Tynar. All the veteran's grief flooded the chamber. Then Caleb gazed up as he felt a presence beside him, and he stepped aside to let Cedric kneel and wrap his arms around Tynar.

"You're not to blame for what happened to me," he said. "Your job was to spread the truth, and if I had to suffer because you were _not_ occupied with freeing me... by all the madness there is! Let me suffer! Let one man suffer that tens of thousands may break their chains!"

Tynar's head trembled as he gazed up slowly. He sobbed, "But you... what they did..."

"_Don't_ dwell on it," said Cedric as he caressed his cheek. "I'm not the only one, though with that knowledge, I don't know if I should feel less lonely or if I should be more disgusted. You did what I prayed to the Great Father you would do. I had prayed He would give you the strength of His coils to be a leader, to shepherd your kin and kith out of darkness, and He did, and you did. And Metamoor is so much better now because of it."

Tynar laid a swarthy hand upon Cedric's golden one, which had stilled upon his cheek. He closed his eyes, and his breathing steadied, and none spoke as he regained his composure.

Endarno rose and placed a hand upon Cedric's head. The noble gazed at him and stood with a sigh.

"I am sorry that such emotions have been roused," said Endarno, "and yet I am not sorry. You had a set of questions, I assume, that you desired to ask, and I am sorry that they have not been answered. Yet I am not sorry, for _this_," he said with outstretched arms, "needed to come to pass; and the sooner in Cedric's rehabilitation, the better.

"If anyone else among you feels inclined to speak their mind, speak now."

The delegates glanced at one another and waited. Galgheita spoke first:

"I wish you the best of luck, Cedric; not for Queen Elyon's sake, not Meridian's but for _you_."

Then Alborn sighed and said, "I have spoken enough. The questions I indeed had can keep until the next visit, when emotions hopefully don't run as high."

Cedric bowed his head to him.

Bercilak spoke next, "I haven't many words to offer you, general, except that I too wish you luck."

Then Vathek rose, and he gingerly took both of Cedric's hands. He squeezed them tightly and drew them to his chest, and the noble smiled softly at him. They exchanged no words before they embraced, and as Cedric melted within Vathek's arms, Caleb wondered if the two had been more than a general and his right-hand.

When Vathek released him, he patted his shoulders and turned to attend to Tynar. Caleb stepped toward Cedric, whom dipped his head coyly. The younger man smiled and drew him from the Chief Warden.

"_Sooo..._" began Caleb as he leaned closely and spoke in a hushed voice, "when they let you out in another eighty days, _maybe_ forty..."

Cedric chuckled before Caleb continued:

"... hopefully Meridian will be safe enough for you, but if not..." Caleb placed a hand behind his head and grinned like a jester. "... maybe if I'm able to put in a good word for you, you know, if I manage to make it to your homeland and tell them about what you've done, maybe... I mean, only _if_ Meridian isn't an option. It'd be great if you could stay, especially for Her Majesty and especially for... you know..."

Cedric's heavy sigh interrupted Caleb's rambling. The joyous gleam in those amethyst eyes faded beneath the shadow of melancholy.

_Oh, crap, now you've done it..._

"If only I'd never told you about my dream," sighed Cedric, "about returning to my homeland; about joining my brother at his illustrious estate with the luscious, _luscious_ grasses and all the streams and rivers nearby it... for that's all it was—a dream."

Caleb's brows knitted. He asked, "Would it be _that hard_ to get you back in your family's favour?"

"Not just my family," whispered Cedric, "the Supreme Authority of all Aaronagim. She of Unmatched Prestige and Horror, Supreme Lady Olindoyo."

Caleb cocked his head. "Olin... doyo? Cedric, come on. You can't be _that_ bad in their eyes. I mean, your ancestor's ghost, Lady Rowenna—she helped me so that I could help you. How bad could this Olindoyo—"

Cedric placed a finger upon his lips and hushed him. He drew him further from the group and from an increasingly curious Endarno.

"She and They Who Were Born Straight from the Mother are _not_ friends of Kandrakar. I wouldn't even discuss her in an academic tone in this world. There is a mutual unease between the parties."

Then Cedric composed himself and resumed: "If you _do_ go forward with your intention to visit Žeayia YikÞ—and I _highly_ discourage it for the time being—don't assume because you've been honoured with the Gift of O'hiyowo by one of our Ladies that they'll welcome you with open coils. And don't assume they'll suddenly forgive me for helping to clean up the mess that _I_ helped to make."

"You mean, I can't use my roguish charms on them—"

"_I mean it!_"

Caleb cringed. _I thought they would've taken away his ability to shape-shift, _but when Cedric's pupils changed from round to serpentine, Caleb shut his mouth.

Cedric sighed and shook his head. "Please, just... focus on Meridian. Any help that Her Majesty needs, give it to her. The Great Mother knows that the dear girl's naïveté was almost the death of her. Well, death-like imprisonment."

Caleb smiled and kissed his forehead. "I swear by the patronage of Lady Rowenna."

The noble grinned and caressed one of his cheeks.

"Be safe. In whatever lands you dwell or cross into, be safe... foremost of my coils."

The young general kissed this cheek and that cheek and bade Cedric farewell. Then he joined the other delegates, and they all bade Endarno farewell.

As Hiboshé led them back to the fortress, Vathek joined Caleb in the back of the group and asked, "What was all the whispering between you two?"

"Nothing," answered Caleb. "Well, nothing we need to worry about at the moment."

"Hmm. I thought I heard mention of the Supreme Lady."

Caleb stopped in his tracks. "You know about her?"

Vathek shrugged. "I was Lord Cedric's attendant. I never pried when he brought up the topic of the homeland, but I did ask a few questions when my curiosity was piqued."

Caleb sighed and waved his hands dismissively. Cedric was right. It was too damned soon to be considering where he would go when Kandrakar released him. Not that anyone knew when Kandrakar would release him.

Hell, for all he knew, maybe they _ought_ to be planning for Cedric's early return. By the Gods! Like they needed something else over which to stress!

"Caleb?"

The young general groaned. They had entered the fortress but not yet the chamber where the portal home awaited them. If Caleb began to discuss this now, his blood might begin to boil, and boy! Would the saints of Kandrakar hear a disruption, alright!

Gods, why _was_ he getting this upset? He knew what Cedric meant—whoever this Olindoyo was needed time to come to terms with what Cedric had done. Caleb certainly had had to!

"Caleb?"

"Okay, fine!" he hissed. "Listen: I've been trying to think ahead in case Meridian is too dangerous for him to return to. So, I asked him: 'Do you think I can get you back in your Ladies' graces?'"

"You _what?!_"

The company stopped and stared at the men. They bowed their heads and pulled their collars closer to their faces.

Vathek grumbled, "By the lightning of Imdahl, Caleb! You should know better than to open old wounds."

"I didn't think I was op—"

"_Exactly!_ You _weren't_ thinking!"

"_You asked!_"

"_Shh!_"

Several saints had entered the corridor, pouting and gazing upon them judgmentally. The young man huffed quietly and trailed behind the delegation as they hopped through the portal home.

* * *

Queen Elyon bombarded the delegates with question after question about Cedric and Kandrakar. Alborn managed to calm Her Majesty with a paternal embrace and the promise they would tell all in the drawing chamber.

Her Majesty flew through the corridors into the chamber. She ordered tea for herself and Mrs. Rudolph—"Er... Galgheita," she corrected herself—and allowed the men to select their drinks.

"A nice half-pint for me," sighed Alborn as Miriadel sat beside him.

"A pint of ale and shot of Idier whiskey for me," said Caleb.

"Idier whi... Idn't it a tad bit early for that, Juliansson?" asked Bercilak.

The young man scoffed. "It's sunset somewhere."

As soon as everyone claimed a seat and received their beverage of choice, Elyon asked (with slightly tempered passion) about Cedric and Kandrakar. Alborn glanced at each of his comrades until Galgheita volunteered the information. She started with the sacred beauty of the fortress, of Hiboshé's kindness but also his absent-mindedness, of the measured Endarno, and of how healthful and well-adjusted Cedric appeared.

"So, you guys didn't have any problems?" wondered Queen Elyon.

"Well, aside from that frightful hall," said Bercilak, and he described the Gauge of the Heart and the scare it had put into him personally.

"Don't mind if I don't go back, Yer Majesty," he said. "It gave me th' jitters, and I hadn't got a bad intention for a soul in that place."

Wali, who like Miriadel had joined to hear their tale, remarked, "By the Inferno! I could go with the finest pies for the old serpent, ones made of minced Dodidrian deer; not an ounce of poison or even a mot of dust inside or on 'em, and even with all the good will in my heart, _I_ wouldn't go. Jus' lookin' at the walls sounds like the stuff of nightmares!"

"Well? What else?" asked the queen, trembling with excitement. "How's his progress? Do they know when he's gonna be let out yet?"

The delegates glanced at one another and shook their heads. Queen Elyon frowned and sat still in her chair.

"He has a long way to go, Your Majesty," said Tynar. "There are things he's done that... well, it's simply going to take time."

"Oh..." The queen's head sunk lower, and her breath slowed. Her hands laid folded together in her lap as the shadow of melancholy descended upon her.

"Do... Do you know if they would allow him to visit us?" she wondered. "I mean... probably not, huh? Heh... Silly me."

Vathek frowned and shifted his chair closer to the queen. The blue giant spoke softly, fatherly, to her:

"Queen Elyon, I know you feel a certain emptiness with him being gone. It's hard to have such a distance between you. But the good news is he _is_ somewhere, _alive_ and well, and it happens to be Kandrakar. _Kandrakar_. I know you don't quite understand, Majesty, but it's a _wonderful_ place, and like Galgheita said, the Chief of the Wardens, Lord Endarno—he not only has good intentions but knows how to make those intentions happen in a way that won't further damage Cedric.

"Have faith, my Queen. Cedric will return in due time and changed for the better."

Queen Elyon smiled at Vathek and sighed with some relief.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank _all_ of you for taking your time to act as delegates to Kandrakar. I understand if some of you don't want to return or if you're unable to, but really, I appreciate it."

The delegates bowed their heads and thanked her for the honour of serving her.

"Now! Off I go to another round of... land disputes," she moaned. "Yippee..."

Miriadel grinned and ushered the queen to her next destination.

Land disputes. If only Caleb were so lucky. Duty was soon to drag him to a large town near Torus Bran. Unlike poor Cedric, who had awoken to what Phobos truly was, these townsfolk continued to swear their allegiance to the deposed Prince. What he would do for an easy way to deal with such insurgents!

* * *

**Annotations**

_the Gift of O'Hiyowo_ (n.) the ability of the Aaronagim to shape-shift into any creature or person with which they are familiar. In the fanfiction _Kiss the Snake Good Night_, Caleb received a necklace containing this ability.


	6. Missionary Men

**Chapter VI**

Caleb had summoned Vathek outside a town near Torus Intzmat. The citizens of this town had sworn their allegiance to Prince Phobos some years before he had captured Meridian, and when Caleb's forces arrived, they had driven them back. The townsfolk weren't necessarily malignant, though. A series of misfortunes coinciding with the reign of Queen Chesed had plagued them. When Phobos had approached them, the vulnerable people had seen improvements in their water and food supplies. As long as they gave a percentage of new crops and cattle to him, and a few soldiers occasionally, he had promised that their new fortune would continue.

"Which is why we need you," explained Caleb. "You were Cedric's right hand man, and that means you were also close to Phobos."

Vathek sighed sadly and stared at the ground.

"That doesn't mean they'll listen to me," he pointed out.

"Yes, they will," insisted Caleb.

"But that doesn't mean I can _convince_ them that Phobos was a tyrant."

Caleb reached for one of his shoulders and patted it, replying, "I know, old friend. But we've got to try. The townsfolk won't listen to us. They consider us 'the curs who drool at the boots of the Light.' _You_, on the other hand, have been where they are now. You used to see something in Phobos that the Light hadn't offered; but then something or someone convinced you that Phobos wasn't all that he was presenting himself to be. Even his most loyal servants were used and used and _used_ until he could no longer use them."

Then he laid both his hands upon Vathek's shoulders. Finally, his friend conceded:

"Very well, though I wish you had called me to aid you in battle. I'm not at all eloquent, but I shall try."

"That's all I ask," said Caleb. "Even if it fails, we tried."

* * *

Caleb and several of his soldiers accompanied Vathek to the boundary established by the town. The guards stood at attention, prepared to turn their weapons upon them.

Then Caleb introduced Vathek but briefly, for Vathek interrupted him and used a greeting that Caleb didn't recognise, neither the tongue nor the sound.

Two of the town's guards seemed to understand, and after they whispered to their comrades, one dashed into town.

"What did you say?" whispered Caleb, but before Vathek answered, one of the two guards spoke:

"The Burgess and the priests of Shaubnagurat shall arrive as quickly as they can. Health and prosperity to you, commander."

Vathek tipped his head to the guard.

"What was _that _about?" puzzled Caleb. Then Vathek whispered:

"Shogott is the worldly master of this town, but the priests of Shaubnagurat have the authority to overturn any legislation he and the town council agree upon. They were the first to endorse... well—heh, heh!—their _God_ had endorsed the 'salvation delivered unto them by His Dark, Majestic Highness.'

"The problem is the priests of Shaubnagurat won't hold an audience with simply anyone. And I just now barely remembered a special word—_phrase_, actually, that Cedric had learned and recited. I had hoped one of the guards might recognise it."

Lo and behold, the other guard returned with men, all mixed-bloods of various heights and shapes, decked in red and black with strange, silver shapes embroidered upon their chests. Among them strode the Burgess, lanky Shogott, the old spectre, his nose turned to one side in disdain.

_Humph! I'm happy to see him, too_, thought Caleb.

One of the priests stepped forth and greeted Vathek in the strange dialect. Then Vathek tipped his head and answered in kind before he stopped in the middle of his phrase, apologising.

"It's been years, gentlemen, and I'm not learned in the sacred tongue like my former masters were."

"Your effort lifts our spirits, Vathek," said another priest, "health and prosperity to you. Still, we feel dismayed to see you stand on the side with dogs blinded by the Light."

"Please, Vathek—health and prosperity to you," began a third, "shall we continue this at the Temple?"

When Vathek glanced at Caleb, the young general replied, "With all due respect, Your Holiness, we feel that it's better to conduct talks out here."

Shogott harrumphed and said, "I agree, Your Holinesses. I shall send the guards to have chairs fetched for you."

So Shogott's will was done, and chairs were loaned for the talk (for the priests, Shogott, and Vathek but no others).

While Caleb traded glares with the old spectre and, occasionally, a guard, Vathek spoke as calmly as he could about Phobos and Cedric and they lies they had told. He spoke of what he had seen and reluctantly of what he had committed; but each time, a priest would excuse the sins of Phobos or try to place blame solely on Vathek (though he _had_ to have been following _someone's_ orders). The conversation frustrated Caleb, for these men were clearly not naive teenaged girls, lured into their arrangement with Phobos. Why, some of the men were old enough to be his grandfather, if not great-grandfather!

_Yeah? And what about Cedric?_ argued one half of his brain.

_Yeah? Well, that was different_, argued the other half. These_ men should know better._

"In soothe, Vathek," said one of the priests (the party had dropped the honorific), "we wish no ill upon you. In soothe, we are disheartened by your betrayal of His Majestic Highness—health and prosperity to him."

"Indeed, and without a doubt! We shall pray for you, old friend, pray for the restoration of your reason."

His _reason?_ puzzled Caleb angrily. His _reason? Of all the utter bullshit that I've heard!_

The sun began to set as not an inch of progress had been made. In fact, the priests had "come to see how" Vathek was "seduced by the rhetoric of this rebel." As Caleb prepared to dismiss the meeting (in as _calm_ a manner as he could _blooming_ muster), two men arrived from the camp.

"Message for Vathek," said one of them quietly, and he nodded to his comrade. "Stopped in Meridian first but came here when it was told he was here."

Caleb eyed the bird that the second men held, a kikehtrix with a long green ribbon and bound by that ribbon, large, rolled-up parchment pages.

"Who is it from?" he asked.

"Someone named Lady Cecelia," replied the second man.

Caleb tipped his head. He recognised that the name had a close association with Cedric. Glancing at Vathek, he wondered if the message were urgent enough to warrant an interruption.

"Stay here," he commanded, and he rejoined the interlocutors.

"Begging everyone's pardon," said Caleb, "but a message has arrived from a Lady Cecelia addressed to Vathek."

The blue giant's eyes had waxed as wide as the moons of Gaahn.

"Ce... Cecelia received my letter?" he stuttered. "I... And wrote back so soon, too..."

"Cecelia?" sneered Shogott. "Is she one of the traitors who funded the insurgency against our Prince?"

Vathek harrumphed and smirked.

"No, Shogott, not at all," he said. "In fact, Lady Cecelia's visit from their homeland—uh, her and Lord Cedric's homeland—it was the catalyst for me to look into, _truly_ look into what I was doing and what Prince Phobos was doing."

Each priest tensed and glanced slowly at his holy brother. Two made strange signs in the air and clasped their hands in prayer.

"You... You were visited by one of... _them_?" wondered a priest.

"And why not?" asked another. "For was Lord Cedric—health and prosperity to him—born of the spores of mushrooms or has he not at least _one_ of _them_ as a relative? Why _not_ receive one of the awesome Dames, unless he or even Prince Phobos—health and prosperity to him—wished to curry the wrath of their Gods?"

"With all due respect, Minister Huhulhu," said Shogott, "but how do we know this isn't a trick?"

The holy men gathered round and spoke in hushed voices. Meanwhile, Caleb maintained a grave face while he smiled in his mind. Oh! If only it were a ruse! If only he had obtained such knowledge sooner so that he could perform such a trick, but honestly, the moment belonged to Serendipity alone.

Then one of the priests requested, "If you would oblige us, Vathek, we would like to see the letter."

Caleb and Vathek glanced at each other before the priest continued: "We shall not remove the ribbon or break the seal. We have methods given to us by Shaubnagurat that allow us to weigh the veracity of a claim."

After a moment of contemplation, Vathek agreed and removed the pages from the kikehtrix. As Caleb bade his soldiers take the creature back and give it some dried meat for completing its task, the priests of Shaubnagurat eyed the letter and weighed it in their hands. Some sniffed it and described the notes they managed to detect. Another pulled forth tiny scissors and delicately snipped the blank tip of a page, lighting it with a whispered spell and gazing at the smoke hanging in the air. After the priests conferred again, they deemed that Vathek spoke honestly of its source.

"You are blessed man, Vathek—health and prosperity to you," croaked the eldest as he returned the letter to Vathek. "Though we continue to grieve that you have forsaken our saviour, if, as you allege, the words of this awesome Dame compelled you to change, then we are more willing to listen; for the awesome Dames of the Forbidding Realm of Serpents are closer than we to the Gods."

Caleb smirked as a wide-eyed Shogott, mouth ajar, hid his face beneath the shadow of his large red chaperon. His smile softened as he gazed at Vathek, whom stroked the letter like a gentle giant petting a small bird.

"Minister Huhulhu... Yo'shoðot... Naphrank... all of you... _this_ Lady, this most esteemed and _glorious_ Lady—she hadn't even stayed that long in Meridian. I can't recall the number of days, but she is, indeed, the reason why I sit here with the _former_ rebels, trying to get you to see that maybe... Hmm...

"Yes, Prince Phobos _had_ given you that which you lacked during Queen Chesed's reign. I'd be ignoring reality if I denied he did do some good... but only when it benefited _him_. He took advantage of _everyone_, including learned men; and if learned men were convinced by his lies, what chance did a simpleton like me have to turn away from what he offered?

"Lady Cecelia, though... In the span of a week and a half—two weeks? I can't remember, but how-ever long, she had just enough time to convince me to think—_really_ think about why I had joined Prince Phobos. And she did it all without being hostile to him. She had never come to expose him, like how one jumps on the smallest, most petty transgression that one's rival commits. She had come to see if the transition of power was for the better, but any hope that she had had crashed and shattered.

"Gentlemen, I did _not_ want to rebel against my Prince because if I did, it meant so many terrible things. If I were right to rebel, it meant I'd been wrong to join him and been played like a fool. If I were wrong, then I would've been _wrong_ and made a terrible and _fatal_ mistake, turning against my Prince. No advantage either way; but Lady Cecelia had planted the seed of Doubt, and as I watched Lord Cedric struggle to make her understand this new world under Phobos, he, without realising it, watered the seed.

"I speak truthfully when I say: It was unintended... but it happened. And while my presence on this side cuts each of you to the quick, imagine how _I_ felt when I was driven to this side. But I know now that it was for the better."

The priests gazed at Vathek with furrowed brows and deeply-carved frowns. They gathered round again and whispered for the longest time. Caleb patted his friend's shoulder, and Vathek smiled softly at him.

Eventually, the priests stepped forth and spoke their minds:

"Vathek... he who was the right hand of the Saviour-Prince's right hand... You have spoken with a genuine heart to us, and you have respected us much better than the men whom you now serve. If only in their stead were the awesome Dame herself, for if on her behalf you told us whom to serve, then we would eagerly say, 'Take a hundred cattle to start with as tribute to the crown!' But... dear friend, it is her favour alone. You cannot speak for her—"

"And lucky me, minister, for that is a responsibility that demands a far more competent servant than I," said Vathek, eliciting their chuckles.

"But as Minister Naphrank began, though you do not serve her, you have her favour, and based on this revelation, we have made this decision: We shall suspend hostilities between Town-Near-Torus-Intzmat and Meridian for the time being. We shall make ourselves clear: we do _not_ owe any allegiance to the Light of Meridian, for we continue to believe that she gained her power through an illegitmate party—"

_I'm not going to say a _damned_ thing,_ thought Caleb with a scowl.

"—however, because Vathek—health and prosperity to him—has the favour of a dreaded and magnificent Dame from the Forbidding Realm, we shall not attack neither soldier nor civilian whom visits from Meridian _unless_ they provoke us through explicitly hostile actions."

Caleb could have sworn that Shogott sighed louder than he did. That arrangement would have to do, Caleb conceded, and he agreed to have his people construct an agreement that matched the terms of the priests of Shaubnagurat. They would return to the boundary in the morning for a review, with spare paper for any addenda and ink and quills for the signing.

* * *

A hot supper greeted Caleb, Vathek, and their colleagues when they returned to camp. Caleb savoured two servings of steaming gaogao soup (_Too bad a certain noisy sire isn't the one swimming in this_, thought Caleb). Vathek had taken his bowl and disappeared, probably to read the letter in as private a setting as he could find.

"Did _you_ know anything about her?" asked one of the soldiers of Caleb.

The young general shrugged. "Not a clue. Of course, not many people run around Meridian saying they know an Aaronag. It's a good way to make people fear you for the rest of your life."

Another soldier harrumphed. "Absolutely. Ya know, I was thar that night at the Sei'espian. Before that night, I woulda swore most o' dem serpent-folk hardly liked anyone 'cept maybe Phobos and shadowy folk, like de followers of Shauby-Nauggy. Course, we know better now, but dey're a lot I still wouldn't mess wid."

Drake injected his knowledge: "Most shape-shifting peoples that weren't raised decently like Galhots tend to align themselves with dark forces: the Mogriff, Andandsee-ites, Laringian Werebears, the Rasamesh... hell, most Werewolves native to Metamoor and all the ones that sneaked here during the Saviours' Migration."

"Makes me wonder why Cedric's folk didn't join Phobos during the war," said one soldier.

"And why they helped us at the Sei'espian. Least, their spirits, anyway," said another.

Aaronagim were not renowned for socialising with outsiders. Of course, Caleb had learned titbits of history from Cedric and from a journal written by Queen Chesed; and honestly, if the situation had been reversed, Caleb would have been as bitter and suspicious. Nevertheless, the conversation had piqued his curiosity. Why had Phobos, infamous for his disdain of his own people and Galhots, not been able to recruit more Aaronagim? What had caused Lady Cecelia to react in such a way that Vathek to spontaneously develop a conscience?

Once he finished his soup, Caleb grabbed his mug and walked around the camp. He discovered Vathek sitting in the crotch of a large tree, a lantern dangling from one of its branches while he closely read the letter.

"Good evening, old friend," said Caleb.

Vathek glanced at him and smiled. "Evening."

"Mind if I join you?"

Vathek gestured to a patch of grass before him, and Caleb sat with a content sigh. As his friend began to browse the pages anew, Caleb noted, "You seem happy."

The Galhot's smile widened, eyes fixed on the letter.

"So, uh... this Cecelia gal—er, Lady must be _real_ special. _Not _that I'm _implying_ anything—"

Vathek blushed and set aside the letter. He clarified, "Oh, no! No, not at all like you and the Earth Guardian. Hoho! It could never be."

"Ya never know," the young general teased.

Vathek sighed and then replied, "Lady Cecelia is... Lady Cecelia is... She's a very important person among her people. She's the ambassador to Meridian, working _directly _under the authority of their supreme ruler. Phobos had seized the throne many months before her visit, and he... wasn't exactly elated at her coming."

Caleb cocked his head as Vathek continued: "And Cedric? Woah-hoho! He was _pissing_ angry! But Phobos permitted her to come, and about a month later, she arrived; and _I_ had been tasked with ensuring that her visit was a pleasurable one, one that showed nothing but the good that Phobos had done—the _good_!"

Vathek clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"Beyond sharing a country of origin," began Caleb, "have Cecelia and Cedric any other connection?"

Vathek stared at him and blinked rapidly.

"They _are_ brother and sister."

"So, that's it!"

"I thought I had mentioned it earlier."

"No! Not that I can recall. So, what's she like? Is she as ferocious as her brother or more so because she's 'an awesome Dame'?"

"_Ohhh_, goodness, Caleb," sighed Vathek, burying his face in one hand. "Yes, she looks like her brother... unsettlingly so, both in her human form and natural form, and yes, she's a beauty to behold in human form. She did give me a _nasty _fright in her natural form one night. _Huhhh!_ Aaronagish women are _not_ to be taken lightly."

Caleb tempered his excitement before he continued his inquiry.

"So... my understanding is Cecelia became upset by what she saw in Meridian."

"Mmm... Indeed."

"Why? I mean, based on what Elyon told me of her experience, Phobos carefully-orchestrated an elaborate illusion that he was this great custodian of the queen-dom. What went wrong with Cecelia?"

Vathek shrugged. "I can only guess that Cecelia saw through the illusion. It's easy for Aaronagim to deceive others but to _be deceived_? You'd probably have to be a Red Dragon—and thank the Oracle for _everyone's_ sake, they're about extinct.

"No, Cecelia _seemed_ happy sometimes... content, rather, but satisfied with the transition? Caleb, the minute she saw the vines, small at the time though they were, she _knew _something was deadly wrong. And nothing I or Cedric could do could stifle her suspicions.

"But you know, dreadful though it was for her, it had been good for _me_, though at the time it'd caused me grave discomfort, so badly that I questioned why I even drew breath any more."

Caleb hummed thoughtfully.

"Did you try to keep in touch with her?"

"Certainly. Oh, certainly! But it takes about a month to travel to the capitol of Žeayia Yikþ. And _anything_ can happen to a letter in that time, not the least of which is confiscation. It became so difficult that finally I sent her a one last message: 'I can't write to you any more.' I made it sound as though it were a problem due to class—she, a noblewoman and I, a humble attendant to her brother—but I had _prayed_ that she would sniff the truth behind my lie."

Caleb smiled and patted one of his knees.

"I'm glad you were able to reconnect with her," he said. Vathek agreed.

"Cecelia was stunned to learn I was alive. And she was overjoyed, too, that Phobos had been removed and the rightful heir of Queen Chesed restored."

"And how does her mistress feel about it?" asked Caleb.

Vathek thumbed through the pages before he found the relevant passage: "'I have informed Her Most Esteemed and Excellent Lady Olindoyo of the change in power. She and They Who Are Born Straight from the Great Mother have said that They had felt a tremendous shift in the energy that circulates the planet. They are pleased to have someone confirm what They had suspected.

"'Her Excellency has also commanded that you wish Queen Elyon well," and Vathek lifted his head and his eyebrows for emphasis, "for in spite of argumentative episodes between Her and Queen Chesed, Her Most Esteemed and Excellent Lady Olindoyo has never desired her destruction. She has desired the understanding of Our antiquity, Our history, Our culture, and Our autonomy by the Escanors, and Her Late Majesty had been the sole soul to genuinely attempt to reach out to Our People.'

"So, there you have it! Of course, I'll need to bid the Queen good tidings when I return home."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Caleb, sighing as though winded by excitement. "That's incredible! Incredible beyond incredible! Huh! I'm sure Lady Cecelia would have a better time now if she came to Meridian."

"Oh! Hoho!" chuckled Vathek. "Maybe wait a year—_two_ years, when Her Majesty's queen-dom is more stable and Her Majesty develops more confidence."

"True. The poor thing's more nervous than a juvenile Hermaneutibeast."

Vathek smiled. "She's trying. Even though she stumbles, she's trying."

With some of his curiosity sated, Caleb bade his friend good-night and retired to his cot.

The other part of his curiosity made the falling asleep difficult. If the Aaronagim had aligned themselves with Phobos, Caleb probably wouldn't exist at all. But what had prevented the the alliance before Cecelia's visit?

_And what had _Chesed_ done or even failed to do, _wondered Caleb,_ to make them sit back and watch _all this_ happen? Not that Vathek would know all that, and I couldn't risk tipping over his carriage while he's riding high and joyful right now. But you'd think saving the beating heart of the planet would be even more important than preserving the Sei'espian! I'll have to ask Cedric._

That was simply what he'd do: ask Cedric and, in the meantime, take comfort that their supreme leader, this fearsome Olindoyo, seemed satisfied with the legitimate heir in power.

* * *

**Annotations:**

_health and prosperity to..._ (phrase) derived from the Ancient Egyptian accolade that sometimes accompanied persons of high regard; originally, 'life, peace, health.'

_Shauby-Nauggy_ (god) to clarify, this is indeed Shaubnagurat. This diminutive is used by outsiders derisive of the dark God's worship.

_Most shape-shifting peoples that weren't raised decently like Galhots tend to align themselves with dark forces _(history) Since this fanfiction is a mixture of the animated series universe and the comics, Galhots have the ability to shape-shift but only into one other form, similar to the Browns.

_Andandsee-ites_ (pl.) the exonym for Miranda's people.

_You'd probably have to be a Red Dragon—and thank the Oracle for __**everyone's**__ sake, they're just about extinct_ (history) While dragons are common on Metamoor, Red Dragons (such as Jonathan Ludmoore) are scarce, perhaps no more than six pure-bloods and seven, maybe eight mixed-bloods, like Ludmoore. The reasons for this require a lengthy explanation, which must be reserved for another time.

Red Dragons are the most evil of dragons and tie with Infernal Demons in how evil they are as creatures. They are one of the few beasts that the Aaronagim, who are natural masters of animals, have no control over. Their devilish nature is on par with JRR Tolkien's drakes.


	7. A Lady's Favour

**Chapter VII**

In the hour Elyon had reclaimed her throne from Phobos, she hadn't considered how each of his allies would react.

When duty, in the form of her generals and commanders, compelled her to think about them, she hadn't expected them to jump for joy at her victory. Those Silver-Blooded Elves, for example, had surrendered _reluctantly_ (They were fighters but lacked the numbers to secure a victory). Nevertheless, they gave her her and Caleb a hard time. Quibbling over the smallest detail they found disagreeable in their agreements - good Lord! Of course, they had quickly learned that Elyon was hesitant to use intimidation and force the way Phobos had. They toyed with her higher moral standards, delaying to deal with "she who has returned the world to way of life too laden with saccharine idealism."

How she wished she could zap them with her magic!

And then she had to deal with those allies whom played like they were victims. _They? Oppose the Light of Meridian? Heavens, no! _they would insist as they would cower behind their expensive dining tables, loaded with more food than they could eat in a single meal. _They had merely been taking care of the land as that_ _beast Phobos had ordered. How could _they _have known what terrible, abominable things he had done? Oh, they would _never_ do that if the Light of Meridian—hail to Her!—were in charge._

Those kind of allies were easier to address—gaol them, try them, and imprison them once convicted.

And then there were people, average, ordinary people, who _somehow_ believed that despite his authoritarianism, Phobos had been a competent ruler, a man whom had ruled using whatever means necessary to keep the population in check. Maybe some other people _had_ suffered but not in _their_ community, and they would be _damned_ if they returned to a life of uncert—

"Your Majesty!" exclaimed a messenger, dressed in the garb of a Nobearite. "The Yretges—Eshcrie Larroneux! His brigands have attacked and seized over two hundred hugongs from a farm collective in West Nobear township."

"What?" exclaimed Elyon.

And _then_ there were those who had never been Phobos's allies from the beginning.

"How long ago?" asked Miriadel.

"As soon as the attack ended, my lord Siryon sent me."

"Those abominable spawn of Morgon!" cursed a Galhot Councillor, Tethras.

"How bold they grow with every week!" exclaimed another, Zahlet.

The Yretges were led by twelve chiefs, and Eshcrie Larroneaux had become the most mentioned—and most cursed—thus far. According to Elyon's history lessons, the Yretges were the descendants of some of Tynar's people, the Galthrohs, whom had mixed with the last survivors of the Kahedrins, the people that her ancestor, Saviour-King Escanor, had vanquished. While they had troubled the Queens of old by terrorising their citizens, the Yretges had mostly kept to themselves, unable to grow numerous enough to cause problems.

Then the War Against the Feared One had begun, and while some of Queen Chesed's strength had been diverted against Phobos's growing army, the Yretges had been as secretly as possible cultivating their own fighting force.

Phobos had no fear flexing his might with unparalleled brutality, and when the Yretges had caused problems, the more-skilled Galtroh soldiers suppressed them ruthlessly. So, the Yretges had become quiet again, and while they had not supported the rebellion, they had not interfered. Let the rebels take some of the pressure off their tribes, and they would reset their plans, bide their time again...

... and Time had offered them a young, ignorant monarch.

_Can I get _one _break for _one _day?_ bemoaned Elyon.

West Nobear township needed the Queen's soldiers—and any financial assistance they could receive. Maybe people wouldn't starve to death like they had under Phobos, but they would certainly go hungry as Yretge brigands chopped at their livelihoods.

_How can people be so cruel after experiencing hardship themselves?_ wondered Elyon.

And why did they have to carry a grudge against Galhots and Escanors? For _centuries_? Centuries_?_ Sure, war was harsh, and war could breed years of hatred, but for that long? That seemed like such a waste of energy.

When West Nobear township's needs seemed met for the moment, Elyon excused herself from the Councillors' chamber to get fresh air the vast garden.

_What's the point of being the Light of Meridian when nobody respects you?_ she wondered.

Perhaps she exaggerated, but she had defeated her brother in one-on-one battle—_she_ had! Elyon 'Used-To-Be-Ordinary' Brown with little to no battle experience. Oh, ho! And if she gained more experience? She could be more fearsome than Phobos! She was already more powerful than he was by she didn't know how many times; yet somehow, that wasn't enough for these... these... these utter monsters!

Elyon stopped and lifted her head. A young tree bearing ripe fruit stood before her. As she plucked a fruit from a branch, she recalled that they were called Lerynian figs after one of her ancestors, Escanor's wife. Queen Leryn had cultivated the trees until they bore fruit with the most amazing taste.

It was also the only fruit that Cedric enjoyed.

"Cedric..."

Miriadel and Alborn knew what they were doing. Caleb definitely knew what he was doing, and so did Vathek, Aldarn, Julian, a whole myriad of people. But Cedric had interacted with Phobos's allies—and enemies. He knew people like the Yretges in and out, up and down, left and right, and if he had been there to tell Elyon what to do, she would have done it, little to no questions.

"Elyon? Are you alright?"

The young queen sighed, "Yeah. Yeah, I guess."

Miriadel stepped closer and laid a hand upon her shoulder.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" asked the older woman.

Elyon sighed and groaned. She fumbled with the fig absentmindedly as she leaned against the tree.

"I don't know. I don't know about any of this."

Miriadel tipped her and noted, "You know, we've had this talk before."

"I know."

"It isn't easy being the queen. There are some many parts of reality that you have no choice but to deal with. Of course, you don't have to do it alone, and you are definitely _not_ alone."

"I know," groaned Elyon.

"Then what else can I do, honey? What else can I say? Alborn and I are trying our best, but there are some things that we're finding out, that we're not used to either. We've been on Earth for so many years, and things on that world were so different."

Miriadel fell silent and reached for Elyon, hugging her.

"Mum... I just wanna be a princess again."

"I know, honey."

"_Nooo!_ You _don't_," moaned Elyon as she pulled away. "I miss walking in the gardens for fun, not because I'm stressed out. I miss going to the library and picking out a book and having Cedric translate the really weird English to me. I miss being loved by everybody I walked by, instead of hearing people talk that there's a bunch of people who hate me just because I was born into this position, _which I had no say in._"

Miriadel gazed sadly at her, and Elyon huffed before she continued.

"I even miss... I even miss _him_. Not what he did. Not all the horrible things he did, but he... Everyone seemed to love me a lot more when _he_ was around. Yeah, yeah! I know, Mum, I know why that was, but... but he knew how to run this kingdom... queen-dom, whatever-you-call-it. Everything just _worked_, and I didn't have to think so hard, and when I did ask him questions, he made it sound like there would always be someone to take care of it for me."

Elyon sighed and tossed the fig aside.

"I'm just not picking up on this fast enough. And every day, my stupidity gets somebody killed—"

"Ellie—"

"—or maybe not killed but robbed... 'n' stolen from... 'n' hurt. They just can't live their lives! They survived Phobos, but me being young and dumb? It isn't making their lives any better."

Miriadel knelt and hugged her again. Her voice softened into her familiar motherly tone as she spoke:

"I know, child, I know. You want the world to be right, but it isn't happening fast enough for you. Things'll be right in time, _with_ time, but you have to be patient, baby, and you can't beat yourself up. If Meridian and all your queen-dom can survive Phobos, then they can certainly survive any obstacles that come their way. But you can't beat yourself, Ellie. No good comes from feeling guilty, not like this."

Elyon sniffled and gripped her tighter.

"Your Majesty? Captain?"

One of pursuivants had found them.

"Yes, Percival?" asked Miriadel.

"General Juliansson and his battalion have returned from Torus Intzmat."

Miriadel smiled and patted Elyon on the back. "With good news for my Queen, I hope."

The women followed the pursuivant to the Councillors' chamber. As the herald announced Caleb, Drake, and Vathek, each man bowed before Her Majesty and waited for her bidding before they sat.

"So, what's up with all the people at Torus Innsmouth?" asked Elyon.

"Innsmouth?" puzzled Caleb.

"Intzmat," corrected Miriadel.

"Yeah, whatever," said Elyon, rolling her eyes. "Whatever it's called. Like, what's their deal? Do they _want _me to call up Kandrakar and be all, 'Hey, yeah, so these people out in this really weird area actually _liked_ how my brother ran things. Can you let him loose so he can rule them, just their little weird corner of Metamoor—_thaaaanks!_'"

"Uhhh... no, Your Majesty," replied Caleb, while Vathek and Drake still glanced at one another in pure confusion. "Believe me, I mirror the sentiment in thinking that they're crazy, but I was right to summon Vathek. Even when talks weren't in your favour, Vathek was still able to make strides with them in ways that we couldn't."

The blue giant blushed and bowed his head. "I don't want to take all the credit. It was Good Fortune that smiled on us that day. If not for the kikehtrix, who knows?"

"The kikehtrix?" puzzled Elyon.

Then Vathek recounted the story: of his prior experience under Cedric's leadership with the town; of the priests, of their authority, and of their worries; of the letter that had come from Cedric's sister—"Wait, he has a sister?"; and of the concession the town made because of the favour Vathek had curried with 'an awesome Dame.'

"So, it's not the best arrangement," said Caleb.

"But it's better than nothing," added Drake.

"Wow!" marvelled Elyon. "And all because of that letter?"

"Not because of it," clarified Caleb, "but because of who wrote it."

"Aaronagish Lords like Cedric aren't always held in high regard, Your Majesty," said Miriadel, "but most outsiders treat their Ladies with respect. And fear. Even Phobos was cautious not to provoke them or catch their attention in anyway."

"Except when he tried to drill into the Sei'espian," said Caleb, "and even then, he followed the rules by having Cedric give him a blessing, which he honestly he didn't deserve."

Elyon reclined in her chair and hummed. Years of loyalty to Phobos smashed with single name dropped... a superstitious folk fearful of their Gods and fearful of a folk assumed to have better communication with those Gods...

"Your Majesty?" asked Vathek.

"Hmm? Mmm... Who is that Cecelia's an ambassador to?"

"The Excellent Lady Olindoyo, Your Majesty," said Vathek.

"Hmm..."

"And before I forget, Her Excellency commanded that I wish you well. Though Escanors and Aaronagim have had a tense history, she and the ruling families welcome your return."

Elyon perked. "Really?"

Vathek nodded.

The wheels began turn in her head again.

She wouldn't necessarily be lying if her heralds spread the word that the supreme ruler of the Aaronagim—the supreme ruling _Lady_ of the Aaronagim approved of her being queen. But Elyon didn't know her the way Vathek knew Cecelia. What if that plan came back to bite her—and practically everyone else because of their association with her? She couldn't start diplomatic turmoil with a nation of shape-shifters, whom could morph into an army of deadly whatever-they-chose.

"Your Majesty?" asked one of the Councillors, Cichol.

"Vathek," began Elyon, "do you think it's possible I could actually... meet this Olindoyo Lady?"

All of her Councillors gasped. She couldn't possibly be serious—Infinite brightness and respect to the Light of Meridian!

"Vathek..." Elyon maintained her gaze upon the blue giant. "... do _you_ think I could visit her and ask her for help?"

Miriadel, mouth agape, asked, "With _what? _Ely—Your Majesty, there's no reason to get them involved. The Aaronagim have mostly kept to themselves for years, and honestly, that's better for _everyone_."

"The captain is right, Your Majesty," said another Councillor. "There's no reason to reach out to _them_ for any help."

"I hear everyone's concern," said Elyon sternly, "but I'm asking _Vathek_."

The blue giant frowned and averted his gaze. A bleak silence fell as he was (obviously) trying to craft an answer that would satisfy Elyon... but also not ignite another frenzy.

Finally, he answered: "No one can take a relationship with an Aaronag for granted. You saw what happened to Cedric, Your Majesty, after all his years of serving Phobos. That depression—that deep, _deep_ depression—was the result of him not having enough power to get revenge. If he had had more power than Phobos, I wouldn't want to be your brother for the world. And I don't think anyone would ever find my body if _ever _I took advantage of the acquaintance I have with Lady Cecelia.

"With that warning in mind, _if _you were able to develop a good relationship with Her Excellency, if you could gain _Her_ favour _and maintain it_—_that_ part is essential—then people's respect for you would grow exponentially. But you _cannot—_and I must use emphasise this—you _cannot_ abuse the favour that you are given. Serendipity enabled me to do what I did at Town-Near-Torus-Intzmat; otherwise, I would never touch Lady Cecelia's name."

The silence that followed was deafening, and all eyes, wide as pairs of moons, stared at Elyon.

To be honest, Vathek had scared her a little. He hadn't said 'killed' or 'death,' but it was implied, and she definitely didn't want to die. Death was always painful if one didn't die peacefully of old age. But his solemnity confirmed her guess, and she knew what she as an inexperienced ruler needed to do.

"I get that you all worry about me," began Elyon. "I mean, I _am_ your queen. It's part of your guys' jobs. If it's not some assassin trying to come and kill me, it's my own mood bringing me down, my own thoughts, feeling sad all the time and feeling... worthless."

"Your Majesty!" exclaimed the Council sadly. "Your Dearest Majesty!"

"I know! I know! I'm the Light of Meridian," she continued with a sad smile, "but I'm just a girl still, and I haven't experienced all the things that all of you have. I've seen the aftermath—the missing limbs, the horrible, ugly scars, the darkness in people's souls. And I wonder, 'What can I do to stop this from happening again? What can I do to get people like Enyus to actually listen to us? To get someone like Eschrie and his thugs to stop harassing the people? Stop robbing them after years of them being robbed by Phobos?'

"I know I can do anything with my powers. _Anything_. I could wipe out entire armies by sweeping my hand and saying, 'No more!' But I don't want to do that. That's what Phobos would do. I want to use other tools, not force. And with Vathek's warning in mind, I want to go forward with my plan."

"What plan?" asked Drake.

"I wanna organise an expedition to Cedric's homeland, and I wanna petition Olindoyo for Her favour."

A chorus of shock echoed through the chamber. Elyon rose from her chair and demanded that everyone be quiet. When the furor subsided, Miriadel spoke:

"Queen Elyon, with all due respect, it's _much_ too dangerous. I'm already terrified for you after what Vathek's said; and the Aaronagim are notorious for being unpredictable and inconsistent. I even don't know if your mother, courageous Queen though she—"

"My mother made it to Žeayia Yikþ," said Elyon, eliciting another round of gasps and whispers. "Cedric wasn't able to tell me the whole story before he was locked up in Cavigor. And yeah, he says it is dangerous, but it's also very beautiful. And his tapestries—his old tapestries showed _normal _people. Normal for this planet, anyway, but they're not all evil. Some of them looked like astronomers and artists and merchants and... parents. Parents who probably worry about their kids. Like anyone else does."

"I say we do it."

All eyes gazed at Caleb. Elyon smiled and stood tall, chest out.

Tethras interjected, "General, you can't seriously—"

"No one is suggesting that we march into Žeayia Yikþ without announcing ourselves," continued Caleb. "Vathek can write another letter; let Lady Cecelia know Queen Elyon intends to see Her Excellency in the next... what? Sixty-something days?"

"General—"

"I would prefer to wait for their reply," said Vathek, "but if Her Majesty wishes, we can leave a little bit after a month has passed, so they'll anticipate our arrival."

"You men _can't _be serious," said Miriadel.

Caleb cocked his head. "It is what the Light of Meridian bids, and as her servants, we shall do our best to make it so."

Elyon edged away from her adopted mother. She looked like a mother lion, ready to pounce on a hyena.

"We almost lost her to Phobos, and now you want to take her straight into the den of creatures that worship a God called the _Devouring Mother_? Creatures that even Phobos was _very _cautious around?"

"_Mother-er-er!_"

Miriadel gazed with wide, glossy eyes at Elyon. The council cringed at the breach in decorum.

"People! These are _people_, Mum!" exclaimed Elyon. "Stop talking about them like monsters! They're not!"

Miriadel blinked and averted her gaze. Her head hung low as an awkward silence permeated the chamber. Then the captain stood and excused herself as decorously as she could.

"Captain—"

"I've got it." Then Elyon sighed and repeated, "I've got it," as she pursued her out of the chamber.

Elyon called to Miriadel as she jogged after the quickly-marching soldier. Eventually, she used her monarchical powers, commanding her to stop, and she stopped, bringing a hand to her face.

"What's the ma—oh..."

Every muscle in Miriadel's face was scrunched as she tried—and failed—to not cry. Elyon reached for her but withdrew her hand, fearful of her reaction.

"What... Mum, what's wrong?" she whispered.

The older woman sniffed and dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. She exhaled deeply, and Elyon finally touched her back, rubbing it softly.

"When I lost your mother," began Miriadel, "I didn't know what to do. Even when I held you in my arms, even after she had told me, she _commanded_ me to protect you, I felt so guilty, leaving her behind. And I know _she _did what _she _chose to do, but... Elyon, I don't want to lose you. You're all we have left, and we almost lost you. _We almost lost you._"

Oh, man... Elyon hadn't considered how Miriadel would feel about this. She hadn't considered how Alborn or any of her subjects might feel. _Jeeeez_, the Aaronagish Ladies must have been _something_ if the idea of young, sweet Elyon going to their land was enough to do _this_ to her mother. She really couldn't take them for granted.

_Neither will my enemies_, said a voice in the back of her head.

Hugging her mother tightly, Elyon replied, "I'm sorry, Mum. I didn't mean to yell at you. I just want... If I can get Olindoyo to be cool with me, it won't only be me. It'll be my _subjects_, my citizens, and that includes my soldiers, like _you_ and Alborn and Caleb and Julian and a whole bunch of other people. It'll make your guys' jobs _so much easier_; but I know it's gonna be dangerous. And I know we have to be careful not to throw around the relationship all crazy-like. But if my mum—my _birth_ mum—thought it was worth the risk to go there, then I think it's worth it to visit them now."

Miriadel knelt and smiled sadly at her adopted daughter. She tucked some of the girl's hair behind her ears and stroked her cheeks.

"You... remind me... so much of her," she said.

"Is that why it hurts so much?"

Miriadel laughed and rose. Taking Elyon's hand, they returned to the chamber and commenced the rough draft of Elyon's plan.

* * *

**Annotations:**

_the Yretges _(people) from the Norman word _yretge_ 'heretic.'

_Eshcrie Larroneux _(person) from the Norman words _eʃcriez_ 'notorious' and _larroneux_ 'thievish.'

_the Devouring Mother_ (God) one of the names of _Ožea Ayiidæ_.


	8. Hint of the Horrible

**Chapter VIII**

Caleb announced the expedition to the Land of the Lotus while in the Great Hall, which was filled with as many of Queen Elyon's commanders as available to come. He had anticipated shock and dissent. After all, this was _Lord Cedric's_ homeland. The few outsiders who had journeyed into the heart of that foreboding land rarely returned, and those who had survived had strange and sometimes grim tales to tell.

Caleb countered: "As I've said, we aren't going there to indulge in mindless leisure, and we aren't going in there without a plan or prior notice to the rulers.

"And furthermore, this _won't_ be the first royal expedition to the capitol of Žeayia Yikþ. Queen Chesed—infinite brightness to her—has gone before"—at which, the commanders gasped and whispered among themselves—"but because of the War Against the Feared One, we've forgotten many of the things, great and small, that the previous queen has performed."

Then he turned towards Queen Elyon, and she handed him a book. As Caleb held it before the congregation, he marked, "This journal was penned by Queen Chesed. It _clearly_ survived the purges of Phobos, and while I have yet to read all of its passages, I can tell you what I understand based on what I've read:

"The Aaronagim _can_ be approached _and_ reasoned with. But it's vital that we, as total outsiders, listen to them and withhold our judgments; for contrary to what many of us have been taught, Lord Cedric's people weren't always instigating mayhem. In fact, there were times that Escanors—and occasionally Galhots—performed enormities against their people. So, it's important that whoever accompanies Her Majesty on this mission has a good temper, for you may likely hear things that make your blood boil."

Despite Caleb's speech, the dissent continued. Queen Elyon's intention behind the expedition was noble without question. Her commanders grieved, though, that she placed unrealistically lofty expectations upon herself, especially given that she was still learning about their world, _her_ world, and she was fresh to everything that entailed being a monarch.

With all due respect to the Light of Meridian, she needed to be patient. Though the dire goings-on needed to be addressed, she needed to be realistic, and that included executing calculated moves, even if they took longer than she believed they should.

Then Caleb's father rose and stepped towards the dais. The commanders fell silent, for no soul would dare to interrupt the first rebel leader, the Ruddy Wolf of the Battle of Greywoods.

"If the favour of their ruler can instill the right amount of fear we need to maintain any semblance of peace, then I say let the expedition come to pass.

"I know that we can't always reason with certain parties. I know that—and not to demean them at all—the courage of our soldiers isn't always enough. The Yretges, for example—they grow bolder and bolder. They're testing us, trying to get a better idea of our strength and our readiness. And I know this much about them: even black-hearted brigands such as they aren't foolhardy enough to challenge the authority of the Aaronag women. Why! I doubt even Morgon himself, haughty creature that he was, would have tangled with them!

"With all that said, I agree with Vathek: a relationship with the Aaronagim should not be taken for granted. However, I have my own reason. It's not to spare them from pain, though that is important. It's because of this feeling I have, this intuition, that they possibly have the power to inflict vengeance with a thousand times the fury than what Escanors could do. And while I am confident that the Light of Meridian, new as she is to this world and to her powers, could defend us, I would not test the abilities of Dreaded Dames for a moment."

Then Julian turned towards Caleb and gazed at him. He said, "With that too said, I trust Caleb. I trust him to lead this expedition the same way I trusted him with the rebellion. Furthermore, and as every soldier here knows, the spirits of the Dreaded Dames bestowed an incredible gift to him, a privilege that he proudly wears every day since he received it. What-ever help he needs to make an excellent impression upon them, I shall give it to him."

His father's speech aroused many a "Here, here!" Caleb smiled and bowed his head in thanks.

* * *

Sixty days gave them plenty of time to prepare. After Vathek had confirmed he had sent his newest letter to Lady Cecelia, Caleb began to study Queen Chesed's journal with Queen Elyon by his side. (Caleb also began to write his own journal devoted to what he had learned of the Aaronagim.)

He was fortunate that Queen Elyon could not read the journal by herself. Queen Chesed's handwriting and language was a far cry from that with which her successor was familiar. Therefore, she could not peek at the passages without a native Metamooran to help her, and therefore, she would not stumble upon unsettling passages without Caleb present to add context.

The journal had begun with minimal excitement. Queen Chesed had initially wrote notes related to what she and the advisors in the Council of the Light of Meridian would have enjoyed knowing. For example, they had wondered if the serpentine shape-shifters had a system of economy and, if so, what manner. They had wondered what additional knowledge of resources, such as the Sei'espian, the shape-shifters might have had.

Other entries included delights such as Queen Chesed's bout of sea-sickness, described in politest way a woman of her station could describe it; a young Phobos—rather, 'Philos' rousing her frustration by covering himself in dirt and leaves, only because he had known the act would infuriate her; and a brief line appreciating the tender comfort of the royal consort after a rough day of travel.

While such entries were not relevant to Caleb's research, they had an unconscious positive effect on Queen Elyon. She had begun to behave more confidently at meetings and when making decisions. She had seemed more formal when a situation called for formality and much more content in casual settings. Eventually Caleb realised that the young monarch had needed to know the Light of Meridian was still only human—or to use more inclusive language, only a _person._

People such as Alborn and Miriadel could remind her that she was young and still learning, and they could tell her that Queen Chesed had also struggled in spite of her being raised for her future role. But Queen Elyon had needed to _know_, needed _verification_; and whom better to get that from than from her own mother?

On the night before the second visit scheduled to see Cedric, the mood of the journal happened to turn strange and alarming.

The entry began with the indignation that Queen Chesed felt "to have my powers tested in such a reckless and abominable manner; but what should I have anticipated from those whom traffic with daemonic gods and practice Arts that would be better lost and hence forgotten?"

When Caleb read the entry, once to himself and then to the queen, he observed that even the handwriting betrayed how frustrated she had been, for the ink had grown thick with greater pressure applied and more aggressive strokes.

"What... What the heck happened?" asked Queen Elyon.

Caleb shrugged, shook his head, and began to skim further down the passage. Then he admitted, "The thing is, I've read a couple of entries ahead at random, and she seemed okay in them. Still..."

Caleb laid a ribbon between the pages, and he flipped carefully through the journal so as to not damage it. When he could not find the entries he desired, he returned to the passage the ribbon had saved, and he continued to read Queen Chesed's diatribe:

"'To conjure such a thing! To lure my people into such peril! What a fool I had been to agree to their trial!'"

"A _what_?" interjected Elyon.

"'Those who were not...'" Caleb paused and gulped silently. "'Those who were not slain were driven to shrilling madness, and the limits of my powers were tested: the ability to protect, certainly, but also the ability to resurrect that which has recently died. It is not a power anyone should exercise lightly, and a weariness still lingers in me from all those that I restored.

"'So many of them, too. Each body that had been brutally slain. So many. So many screaming. And Philos. Laïos—thank the Oracle—Laïos shielded Philos from the worst of it.'

"'I am still so weary. I would rest, but that visit from the queens' heralds has stoked my anger, and hence, I am alert like a bull, his patience worn thin. It takes not strength but some skill of some kind that I cannot yet name to not scream to Kandrakar Itself; and I did not abuse the heralds when they came.'

"'They said that their queens, their "Highly Excellent and Dreadful Ladies"—indeed, they are dreadful creatures for what they have done!—were satisfied with the test. My powers assured them that I was no fraud, and I was no braggart, seeking to use the fact that I am an Escanor to try to bend them to my will. Such rubbish! Such flaming refuse! And such gall! I dismissed them and told them that I would hear no more from their kind until they had devised a way to satisfy me! to make whole what they had sundered!'

"'To see them now. If only Mother could see them now! See the abominations they can conjure! How she ever listened to them is beyond me now! How I ever thought to come here, to extend a hand in friendship, is beyond me now! Fury, fury, and more fury!'"

Pages slid dryly against one another as Caleb slowly closed the journal. His face had flushed as he had read the passage, and then the blood had drained when he realised that he had read that terrifying entry to Queen Elyon.

She broke the silence: "Caleb... what... was all that?"

"I honestly have no idea," said Caleb.

The pair fell silent again, and Caleb gazed at his queen, her legs tucked against her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs.

"Your Majesty?"

The queen lifted her head.

"Are you alright?"

She sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess. I'm just... stunned."

"Mmm..." So was Caleb.

"But... But you said you... read ahead, right? That it gets better?"

Caleb blinked and shrugged. "It does. I just don't know what to make of... _that_," and he lifted the journal before releasing it with a gentle _thud_. He sighed and rubbed a hand against his head.

"God, I was nervous before," began the queen. She tittered anxiously and continued, "I know! I know! This whole big thing _was my_ idea! And even Vathek said we oughtta be careful because something like _that_ might happen. I mean, he _didn't _say something like _that _would happen, but he did say to, you know, be very, very, _very_ careful around them. _Hoooooo!_"

As Queen Elyon laid her head against her knees, Caleb drew closer and sat before her.

"Do you want to know what I think, Your Majesty?"

"Mmm." She glanced down at him.

"I think we should continue to prepare for the quest. I don't think we should let this _one _entry sabotage your plan. You heard Vathek: Olindoyo and They Who Are Born from the Ožea Ayiiðæ are _pleased _that you're sitting on the throne—_you_!

"Does this entry make me, as your general, pause for a moment? Yes. It does. It ought to. Keep in mind, Queen Elyon, that the Aaronagim are ancient, that they probably _have _been trafficking with gods and demons; entities that even _Phobos _was probably very strategic in not interacting with unless he thoroughly did his research.

"That's the point of the mission, though: to cultivate a genuinely friendly relationship with a genuinely dangerous but well-respected people. And your advantage is, perhaps, your genuineness. We've been raised with certain ideas here in Meridian that far from flatter Cedric's people; so, if your soldiers, your ambassadors or whoever else goes act genuine, we might... well..."

"Say something _really_ racist?" added Queen Elyon.

"Yeah. Probably."

The queen smiled dryly.

"But if _you _are yourself, with all that curiosity you have and your big, kind heart, free from all the... the _lies_ that I've been told and others have been told, they'll probably adore you."

"Or think I'm a weirdo and wonder why the heck I'm on the throne."

"Or think you're weird and find it amusing-slash-charming."

The young monarch tittered, and her limbs untangled. Her glistening eyes and her wide smiled cast a light upon his heart, and Caleb suddenly remembered Cornelia and the other girls, remembered the warmth of that part of Earth (in spite of its weirdness).

"Let's take a break," said Caleb. "Let's take a break from the journal tonight, and when I go to see Cedric tomorrow, I'll see if I can sneak some questions in regarding Žeayia Yikþ. Alright?"

"Sounds like a plan," said Queen Elyon.

Then they bade each other good night, and Caleb retired to his chamber.

* * *

Caleb knew that his comrades might also have questions, and as he awaited the portal to Kandrakar, he recalled the warning that Cedric had issued about Olindoyo and the holy Centre of Infinity.

"I don't think we can keep the expedition a secret from them," noted Caleb, "but it's probably not a good idea to bring up Olindoyo's name again and again or at all, really."

Galgheita raised both her eyebrows. "General! If Kandrakar does indeed disapprove of their ruler, then why on Metamoor have we not told Elyon? She can't go this expedition if Kandrakar is against it."

"Did Cedric tell you why?" asked Julian.

"Probably has to do with King Escanor," Vathek interjected immediately. "Galhots wanted him and the other Four Saviours to stay. He was alright with it as long as Kandrakar approved of it, and Kandrakar approved of it. And Cecelia's folk are masters of holding grudges. Well! Unless you belong to Cecelia's clan. They tend not to hold grudges as intensely as the others."

Julian stroked his beard, smirked, and glanced at Caleb.

_Oh! You noticed he said 'Cecelia' and not 'Cedric,' too? _thought Caleb as he returned the smirk.

Soon the portal appeared, and Caleb, Vathek, Alborn, Julian, and Galgheita tread through the mystical halls, which had lost none of awe they had inspired.

Of course, they needed to cross through the Gauge of the Heart again, and while they walked with a tad more confidence, the experience continued unsettle them.

Julian, being the newcomer, was rendered wide-eyed and agape by the corridor.

"How do they get prisoners into the Tower?" he asked, for surely, an inmate would intend to do harm to a guard or one of the wardens.

"We have another entrance for residents," replied Hiboshé.

_Humph! Good news for Phobos_, thought Caleb.

The delegates congregated in the same chamber with the luscious cushions. Julian sat close to his son, and Caleb sat more closely to Cedric, whom smirked and eyed him coyly.

"Welcome," bade Endarno.

"Thank you, Your Holiness," replied Alborn with a tip of the head. Then he gazed at Cedric, tipped his head, and asked, "And you—how are you, Cedric?"

"Doing well, thank you," replied the shape-shifter, tipping up his head. "I've been doing a bit of thinking since your previous visit."

"Oh?" Alborn cocked his head. "What about?"

Cedric averted his eyes and cleared his throat. He spoke softly, "I took a bit of time to consider all that you'd said. All that you _felt_. And, well... I suppose you were right to be angry. _Furious_, actually, about what I did, in particular the danger I put Elyon in.

"I started to think about my own mother, about what happened to me, _everything_ that had happened to me, and that just so happens to include Phobos, not just his father, and the way Phobos exploited me when I was young and when I was... vulnerable. I was older than Elyon, but still, I thought about my mother and my family and how she and they felt. And honestly, there isn't much difference in the anger, the frustration. And so, I am sorry for that grief I caused, commander, among other things."

Alborn nodded gently, swallowed, and replied, "I appreciate that, general. Thank you."

Caleb smiled.

The meeting continued without any outburst: yes, Cedric would remain for another forty days; Cedric continued to unfortunately keep certain barriers erected. Kandrakar was concerned about his impulsiveness, especially since he had not mastered mindfulness to a point where certain triggers ceased to arouse a violent reaction.

"'Violent reaction'?" puzzled Caleb.

"Sadly, yes," said Endarno. "While Cedric does not have the full array of his powers, he can stand before you as a man or as a serpent; and it is interesting to observe that when he assumes his true form, he tends to cool faster. As a man, he is more alert, more sensitive, more volatile."

"Has he injured anyone?" asked Alborn.

"He has but not maliciously. We have procedures dictating when we must restrain a prisoner, but we have learned that young Cedric must be given space. I have instructed all the guards and wardens to keep their distance when he has a violent episode and to keep other residents safe; for, as you should know, we allow the low-risk to congregate for various activities pertinent to their rehabilitation."

Caleb frowned and gazed at Cedric, whom sat slumped.

"Thank you, Lord Endarno," said Alborn. "We are grateful to Kandrakar for all its aid."

Lord Endarno smiled and tipped his head. Then he asked if any of the other delegates had questions for him or for Cedric.

Caleb replied, "If it isn't too much trouble, warden, we'd like to speak with Cedric in private."

The chief warden blinked and glanced at an equally-puzzled Hiboshé. Endarno said, "For everyone's safety, I cannot honour your request."

Caleb glanced at Alborn and shrugged. Then Endarno continued: "May I know whence this request comes?"

Caleb sighed. _Okay, here we go._

"Queen Elyon is organising an expedition," began Alborn, "to Lord Cedric's homeland," at which, the shape-shifter's eyes grew. "And we wanted to ask him a few questions."

The warmth on Endarno's face diminished, and when he turned towards Cedric, the shape-shifter leaned away. The saint asked, "Why is Queen Elyon organising an expedition to the Forbidding Realm of Serpentine Shape-shifters?"

"For a favour, Your Lordship," replied Vathek, "the favour of a Lady. The Light of Meridian believes that if she can earn the favour of a Lady, then those who still oppose her shall think twice before they strike."

Endarno hummed contemplatively, and Cedric glanced at Caleb before he gazed at the meditating saint.

"I doubt that the congregation would endorse her quest," replied Endarno. "Elyon is young, new to the throne, and fresh to Metamoor. The rulers of the Forbidding Realm are ancient. They wield terrible powers, and they can be fickle and are content to be so. If Elyon were lost, that would be a tragedy, especially after the Guardians had laboured hard on her behalf.

"However, neither Kandrakar nor I individually can compel or coerce her to cancel this expedition. I shall bid her good luck and nothing more."

Caleb hummed. No disrespect to the saint or Kandrakar, but Vathek had demonstrated that the Centre of Infinity was biased.

Of course, having a bias wasn't necessarily bad. The congregation of Kandrakar had been biased against the Kahedrins, otherwise they wouldn't have allowed Escanor to aid the Galhots. Kandrakar had been biased against Phobos, otherwise they wouldn't have raised the Veil and summoned _two_ generations of Guardians to fight.

Unfortunately, Kandrakar was biased against the Aaronagim, and that tension had likely arisen for the reason Vathek had detailed.

Then spontaneously, Caleb recalled: 'those whom traffic with daemonic gods and practice Arts that would be better lost and hence forgotten.'

Perhaps he _was_ being naïve, seeking the good in Cedric's people while ignoring legitimate concerns that other parties had.

Then Julian spoke and snapped him out of his thoughts:

"I understand your concern, Lord Endarno, for I share it. With all due respect to Cedric, the Aaronagim are not renowned for kindness. However, Caleb has taught me plenty about them, that there's more to them than guile and malice. And Vathek, too—his relationship, in fact, with a Lady of great esteem is what inspired Queen Elyon."

Endarno perked his head, while Vathek bowed his, a slight flush on his cheeks.

"She did say," began the bashful blue giant, "that the rulers were pleased with the rightful heir's return."

Endarno's eyes grew, and he blinked rapidly. "Really?"

Cedric gaped. "You... You heard from her? Heard from Cecelia?" at which, Vathek nodded. Cedric exhaled deeply and grinned.

"So, what about you, Cedric?" asked Alborn. "What do you think about it?"

The shape-shifter sighed and glanced at Caleb. His eyes moved this way and that way, and he adjusted his legs upon his cushion. Eventually, he answered:

"It depends. I don't recommend going up randomly to any Lady and asking for her favour. There is, of course, the issue of safety, and then I'm assuming Elyon wants to bolster the awe that the Light already evokes? Some Ladies evoke more _fear_ than they do _awe. _Therefore, if I were Elyon, I would go straight to Cecelia. And if, for whatever reason, either one doesn't feel comfortable with an arrangement, Cecelia can at least point Elyon in the right direction."

"Hmm... Good to know," said Alborn.

"Does anyone else in the delegation have additional questions pertaining to Cedric's rehabilitation?" asked Endarno.

None did; and so, the time had come for each delegate to bid him farewell.

Galgheita was minimalist and pleasant as before. Julian tipped his head and thanked Cedric for his help, at which, the shape-shifter bowed. Vathek excused himself and took Cedric aside. Caleb watched as they whispered to one another. Towards the end, Cedric heaved a sigh, and Vathek patted him on his shoulders before the soldiers embraced.

That left Alborn and Caleb. The young general tipped his head at Endarno as he approached Cedric, and he would have sworn that the chief warden smiled slightly, not a lewd smirk but soft curve of warmth accompanied by eyebrows creased upward.

He knew, thought Caleb, and he saw the hint of gratitude glimmer in those fatherly eyes, of thankfulness for what Caleb had contributed to the former transgressor's life.

As the pair leaned against the wall, Caleb began, "I promise, I won't make eyes at another serpent while I'm there."

Cedric chuckled. "You know, it's quite normal for my people to take up multiple partners. Of course, we do play favourites, _buuut..._"

Caleb's grin widened. "_We-e-elll_, when you say that... I mean, the best way to connect with another people is to adopt some of their customs, ya know, to show how open you are to their way of life."

Cedric chuckled again, his eyes gleaming with mischief. _Gods_, he seemed to fare immensely better.

"In all seriousness," began Caleb anew, "I do have one more question I'd like to ask in regards to you-know-what."

Cedric straightened himself and perked his head.

"Queen Elyon and I have been reading Queen Chesed's journal, the one that you saved from the purges. We're hoping to get some insights, hopefully avoid missteps that the previous quest committed."

"Mmm!"

"We reached an entry last night that was... well, it was disturbing. I didn't know what to make of it, and while I tried to assure Her Majesty that things are different this time, I'm still concerned."

"Which entry?"

Caleb glanced at Endarno and the other delegates. He lowered his voice further and replied, "When Queen Chesed arrived, I guess Cecelia's bosses conjured something to test her," at which, Cedric's eyes widened and darted about, a deep frown on his face. "... test her abilities, I guess, and make sure that she was who she said she was—the Light of Meridian. Do you have any idea what happened? What that was all about?"

Clearly, he did as soon as his face had contorted.

Though Cedric had begun to shake his head, he replied, "The Trial to Behold. It isn't something She conjured. It is something She can _become_."

Caleb's eyes widened, and he leaned closer. "She _what_?" But Cedric lifted both his hands, patting the air in a bid to calm him.

"The Ruler has changed since then, not for all _hahalim_, mind you, but She became keen on Chesed, though... by the time She had _explicitly_ bestowed Her favour... the queen had been lost."

"So, does Elyon still need to—"

"_Of course_!" Cedric rolled his eyes. "A Lady shall not bestow her favour unless she comes to know the one seeking it. Do you think _I_ would endorse one of your friends _without _getting to know them? For all I know, I could be endorsing someone with the proclivities of Laïos."

"Point taken."

Cedric sighed and looked into his eyes.

"Foolhardy rebel," he sighed.

"Foolhardy _general_," corrected Caleb, eliciting a chuckle.

"Do be careful. Her Excellency maybe receptive to Her Majesty, but as to the rest who accompany her..."

"Is there anyway to protect ourselves?"

The shape-shifter groaned. After a moment of thinking, he smirked wryly and replied, "Well, if you do become mired in peril to the extent where the Guardians become necessary, be prepared for a long, _long_ wait. The ruling family has a powerful spell that radiates from the capitol, hindering the sight of Kandrakar. The closer you draw to it, the weaker Kandrakar's vision becomes, or so the ruling family says."

Caleb frowned. "I don't suppose praying to your ancestors would help? Or to your Gods?"

Cedric smirked and reached for his face. "_O__žea __Đambal__æ, hiira-oes ur__šah__öniel._"

"I don't know what that is," chuckled Caleb.

"That you'll come back to me alive."

Caleb gazed at those eyes with their wide serpentine pupils, the melancholic shine of their amethyst irises, and the eerie glow of the golden sclerae. He clamped both hands around Cedric's and he said, "I promise. By the strength in the coils of the Great Mother and Father, I promise."

Then he bade him farewell and departed with the delegation.

* * *

**Annotations:**

_To see them now. If only Mother could see them now! See the abominations they can conjure! How she ever listened to them is beyond me now!_ (history) Queen Chesed's mother is Queen Binah, whom during the time of Chesed's expedition had been alive. Binah had begun the process of reconciling with the Aaronagim (visitors to Meridian, anyway).

Chesed had gone further than Binah, but assumptions by her and her council led to the awful Trial to Behold.

_O__žea __Đambal__æ, hiira-oes ur__šah__öniel _(Aaronagish) Great Father, help my beloved (lit. my stomach). In Aaronagish culture, it is the stomach, not the heart, where feelings sit; however, Escanor translations will often render _ur__šah__öniel _as 'my heart' or 'my dear.'


	9. Final Countdown

**Chapter IX**

After the delegation had detailed their new report from Kandrakar, Caleb pulled aside Her Majesty to discuss what he had learned of the Trial. Queen Elyon sighed with relief, though as Caleb gazed at her, he noticed a lingering fear in her eyes.

"With your permission," he began, "I'd like to read ahead on my own."

"_Not. A. Problem_," she replied. "That thing is _all yours_. You can just give me your notes because that whole thing before now? _Total stressor_ until now!"

And so, when time opened itself to him, Caleb tackled the journal again:

_I do not know if these words I write shall be the last of my written accounts. Let it be known: I choose to ignore the fear of my Councillors and the anger in my own heart, so that I may accompany Mulga back into that den of Evil. She has explained: __The 'Majestic and Terrible Lady Olindoyo' desires my audience, away from the other queens, to explain all the reasons she subjected me to the Trial. I did not trust Mulga until she, in hesitation but nevertheless of her freewill, swore upon the name of her own mother that I would be safe. 'You suffered enough,' she had said, 'and we would be fools to withhold the truth.'_

_And the safety of my people? I had asked. Again, she swore upon the name of her mother: 'They shall not be assailed in your absence.'_

_Laïos has complained to me, and surely, I do not blame him. The anger in my heart beats like a war drum; yet, after that abominable trial, did the shape-shifters follow us? Pursue us to make us their supper or sacrifices? Were the heralds, who had preceded Mulga, come with guards and belligerence? Is Mulga not come alone?_

_I am a fool. Her vows mean nothing if some creature, some deviant manages to circumvent her vows; for how can she control for the abhorrence that dwells among her people?_

_Fool, fool, fool, four times and five times and so on, and so forth am I a fool!_

Yet, Queen Chesed had followed Lady Mulga, and she had learned.

Lady Olindoyo had told her tale after tale of Escanors and Galhots, sauntering into the Realm of the Lotus, boasting of the exploits of the Five Saviours as though such affiliations warranted automatically sharing the land with them. Some colonists had gone so far as to use their stories to justify seizing acres of land. Others had come to believe the Aaronagim as stupid, too aloof of the politics of outsiders to know who truly was the Light of Meridian or the so-and-so relative of the Saviour-Prince Grendal, and so on, so forth.

Therefore, the highest-ruling Ladies had consulted their Gods, and They had bestowed upon Lady Olindoyo the gift of the Trial of Behold.

Unsurprisingly, Queen Chesed had considered the gift strange and far too dangerous to administer in the future; but Lady Olindoyo supported the decision. After all, her people had asked _the Gods_ for Their help, and _the Gods_ had answered in the way They had seen fit. Lady Olindoyo could choose to _not_ administer the Trial; however, she had managed to strip frauds of their deception, and rarely but worthy of note, she had delivered justice against enemies whom had strong powers and whom were credible threats to her people.

Again, unsurprisingly, the ever-frustrated Queen Chesed had wondered: Why test her? Why not ask the Gods who was a fraud or not on an individual basis?

_And then, the Lady said unto me: 'You have heard me, but you have not listened. The Trial is about more than unmasking deceivers. It is a gift. It is a way to protect my people, for the Gods are like our worldly mothers. They are not always able to answer prayer, but They can arm us for when They are absent. And so, I shall speak no ill of my Mother's gift.'_

Caleb knitted his hands behind his head, sat back, and sighed. He respected Lady Olindoyo's loyalty to her gods, though to be completely honest, her devotion made him nevous.

The priests of Shaubnagurat had justified their fealty to Phobos by claiming that their gods had approved of his reign; and they had seemed to sincerely buy into their reason. Now take their own admission that they weren't nearly as connected to the Other-World as Lady Olindoyo and her people. So, what horrifying things could They Born Straight From the Mother potentially justify under the shield of sincerely-held beliefs?

Groaning, Caleb tapped his fingers upon the journal. He dug beneath his shirt and pulled out the Gift of O'hiyowo. He gazed wearily at the pendant as he thumbed it before closing his eyes.

_Please, _please_, the Queen safe_, he prayed, and then he spoke: "Please... You know me. You know that I can deliver on my promises to the Gods, but I don't know what You want this time. I don't know what You desire in exchange for keeping Queen Elyon safe. If it's something as simple as getting to know more about You or... or if it's... something more... a sacrifice?" His heart choked him before he continued: "Please... whatever it takes for this journey to be a success... help me."

The Gift did not glow, and he heard nothing from Cedric's gods.

* * *

While Caleb, Vathek, Alborn, and Miriadel would accompany the Queen on her quest, Julian, Aldarn, and Drake were among the high-ranking officers who would remain to maintain security throughout the queen-dom. Meanwhile, the Council of the Light of Meridian would administrate in the Queen's absence (although, to be honest, considering how much of a hand they had already, the arrangement continued business as usual).

Then an odd conversation arose one supper:

"You know, you're all probably going to wonder where the real Alborn is," began the commander, "but... as much as I don't want to admit it, I wonder if Kandrakar would allow... Well..."

"Yes?" Miriadel raised an eyebrow.

"Suppose... What if we permitted... _him_ to be around? Temporarily, of course."

"'Him'?"

"Lord Cedric?"

Caleb choked and coughed, while Queen Elyon perked up and wondered, "Seriously?"

"What, indeed, _have_ you done with the real Alborn?" queried Miriadel.

"Now, hear me out! It's not like I've gone soft on him or anything. But so far, since his incarceration, he's been cooperative. Now pair that with his wealth of knowledge. He knows _all_ about Phobos's old allies, enemies like the Yretges; knowledge about locations like the Sei'espian. And the library, of course!"

Caleb sighed. "I doubt the Council of the Light would agree to such an arrangement."

"Besides, I don't think it's safe for him," added Miriadel, "not yet, anyway. I mean, it's a miracle nobody tried to kill him here while he was still healing."

"I don't think he should return yet," said Julian, "_but_ we could arrange the use of the portals used for communication if we need his assistance." Then he chuckled and added, "And if the Council won't talk to him, then I will."

Caleb smiled. "Agreed!"

"Tch! You know me," said Queen Elyon with a smirk. "I'm totally cool with it."

And so, the soldiers agreed that upon the next check-up, the delegation would make the request of Kandrakar.

But the visit would not come to pass.

A portal designed for communication only appeared in the throne room upon that designated day. Hiboshé apologised profusely and explained, "The entrance into and exit from Kandrakar has become highly restricted until further notice."

The delegates glanced at one another, then to their Queen.

"What's the matter, Lord Hiboshé?" asked Alborn.

"Do not be alarmed. Residents in the Tower of Mists are under no danger of escape or harm. The Guardians have been informed, and we are doing what we can to help them help Kandrakar."

_Help... _Kandrakar? thought Caleb as his eyes widened. _Help the sacred Centre of Infinity? _The_ houses where the balance between light and shadow throughout the _entire_ universe was maintained? What in the Inferno—_

_"She and They Who Were Born Straight from the Mother are not friends of Kandrakar."_

Well, of course, Kandrakar had enemies! Not even the holiest beings were free from antagonists! It was a terrible surprise, no doubt about that, but to be an _utter_ shock? Maybe to the rest of the people in the hall but not to Caleb.

Anxiety and speculation filled the great hall after the portal vanished. Puffing his chest, Caleb called: "_Listen! All of you!_ There is _nothing_ we can do. Even if we wanted to help, you heard him: Kandrakar's gates are _shut_. We're lucky that he even took the time to deliver such a message. The best we can do is pray to our gods and our ancestors; pray to the Worlds Beyond Our Sight to aid Kandrakar through its dire time. And while we do that, we carry on with work as usual. We maintain our own world's security, continue with our missions, and that includes the quest to the Realm of the Lotus."

His speech has stopped the needless speculation for the moment. Nevertheless, every bowed head and crooked back betrayed the court's anxiousness.

Then Caleb turned to Queen Elyon, her eyes glossy. He stepped to the throne and kneeled before her, saying, "Cornelia and the girls will take care of everything. They will. They were able to depose Phobos after all he had done, and they don't even have the years of military experience that many of us do."

He gently grasped one of her hands, and she smiled as Caleb added, "Have faith in them, my Queen."

* * *

The second kikehtrix that Vathek had sent had returned as final goings-over commenced.

On that particular day, Caleb had been occupied trying to calm Trill, the lead cook of the expedition. She was mindfully of Queen Elyon's earthling palette—obnoxiously so, in Caleb's opinion—and she had _begged_ him to make more room—much, _much_ more room—for supplies that would give the cook more options.

Caleb huffed. "Don't you think your time would be better spent saying good-bye to the children and Mordent?"

After all, she really _didn't_ need to go on the journey. Still, Trill had insisted. She knew Queen Elyon's preferences best, she had insisted. She trusted none of the other five chefs or any of kitchen staff to cater to Her Majesty the way that she did. The pyrodaemon Coulé especially—by the mercy of the saints! He poured spices on food with such little subtlety! A young queen could get the 'running waters'—

"Oh, my gods, Trill, _sto-o-op!_" groaned a young woman on the steps.

Trill harrumphed and resumed her mad attempt at altering the inventory.

The young woman looked no older than nine years old, but from what Caleb had learned, she was probably two or three years Elyon's elder. Her thick, jetty hair fell to her waist, and she sported freckles on her snow-white skin.

Though Altaira was no member of the kitchen staff, she might as well have been given how often she had spent time there.

"See?" groaned Altaira. "_This_ is why I called you. _This!_" Then she raised her voice and exclaimed, "_They need. To rati-on... You. Madwoman!_"

"Humph!" Trill whipped around with a large bag of flour tucked beneath one arm, scattering some of her assistants. She shook a portly finger as she retorted, "This girl, general, _this girl_—she raise herself on sewer troopers and Whomper fish. What meals are those, hmm? _What. Would. This. Poor. Girl. Know?_ Hmm? Nothing! She was made to run wild! Eat nothing but filth thanks to her skiving mother!"

As the young Andandsee-ite groaned again and buried her face in her hands, Vathek marched down the steps. Caleb sighed in relief.

"What news, old friend?" asked the young general.

Vathek lifted the rolled parchments and replied, "We should be good."

The young general smiled. "Thank the gods! You know, I'm almost ready to go simply to get Her Majesty's mind off Kandrakar."

"I _do_ need to discuss some things with you."

Caleb's smile flattened, and he nodded.

"Ladies," he said with a tip of his head as he followed Vathek up the stairs.

As the men walked through the hall, Caleb asked, "What're the complications?"

Vathek paused, unfurled the papers, and read:

"'By the time this letter reaches Meridian, the expedition might have set forth. While we feel this is rushed, to whomever does receive and open this letter at the Castle of the Saviour-King, be assured: The capitol is aware of the Queen's intended coming. We appreciate the forewarning and look forward to her arrival, whenever that is.'"

Caleb tipped his head. "Interesting."

Vathek continued: "'To Vathek, son of Motassem—or to Whomever Must Be Concerned—be aware: While the Highly Excellent One and They Who Are Born Straight From the Mother are prepared to receive the Queen, not every citizen—either Aaronag or _hahal_—knows that she is abroad.'"

Then he paused and sucked air between his teeth before he read: "'Therefore, the Rulers cannot guarantee the safety of the Queen or the members of her party. Nevertheless, we shall attempt to forewarn as many of our citizens as we can. Keep in mind: Even with the threat of unbearable punishment lurking above their heads, the more dedicated of grudge-holders may attempt to maim, murder, or devour the 'lapdogs blinded by the Light.'"

Caleb harrumphed and rolled his eyes. Of course...

"'I have included several pages of maps, in case Cedric's maps have gone missing. If Vathek receives them, I have outlined paths that, I pray, are the safer, more manageable routes. If he has not, leaders in Port Tristan can point him in the correct direction (albeit with immense reluctance, I'm sure); and in that case, if the Castle's administrators receive the maps, they have some idea of each main thoroughfare and location.

"'We wait patiently for the Queen's arrival, and we are eager to meet her. The Rulers shall not bestow Their favour upon her without an audience. They shall not bestow Their favour unless she can prove her worth. (Take a little heart, though, They are pleased to have received her forewarning, for the absence of any such message was an enormous mistake by Queen Chesed.)

"'Honourably, Great Lady Cecelia.'"

Caleb stroked his chin as he processed her words. He glanced at the letter, took special note her parentheses, and thanked Vathek.

"Ladies Above and Below," he profaned and then smiled wearily. "If I could, I'd haul something a lot stronger than Idier whiskey with me—and lots of it for when we finally make it to Olindoyo's—"

Crash after crash interrupted the young general, causing him and the other veteran to jump and tense. They glanced rapidly at one another before dashing to the kitchen entrance, down the stairs, and into the thick of a huffing, snarling Trill.

"_That devil!_ That mischievous, motherless devil!" she roared. "You know what she did? I tell you! Spilt all my spices! _All of them!_ Ones I was to bring on the journey! What kind of discipline is this, eh? We show her kindness. We give her a chance. We all think she maybe a spy when she cozied up to us, and what does she do? What does she do to repay the Queen for her kindness, he mercy? _Spill. All. Her spices!_"

While Vathek and several staff members tried to cox out Altaira, whom was cowering in her true form inside a cabinet, Caleb pulled Trill aside and spoke as calmly but firmly as he could. He would be a damned man if the two women absolutely crossed paths during any leg of the journey.

* * *

**Annotations:**

_Trill_ (person) In this alternative universe, Trill is _not_ Nerissa in disguise. She's a married woman of six (four of whom have survived), and while she did not play a large role in the rebellion, she was a small actor within it.

_Altaira_ (person) one of Miranda's daughters and sons. Like many of her folk, Miranda abandoned her offspring after they hatched. While the servants didn't trust Altaira to not betray them, nevertheless she developed the reputation of a "lap-spider," nibbling scraps and occasionally curling beside resting servants when a small window of leisure time opened up for them.


	10. A Lady's Advice

**Chapter X**

Servants and soldiers buzzed throughout the corridors and courtyards on the day the queen was to depart. Knapsacks were checked, double-checked, and triple-checked. Rhinoceroses snorted and sniffed as they shook the remnants of sleep from their hulking bodies. Tricerapposes pawed at the ground, eager to stretch their legs beyond their stalls and corrals.

Elyon took time deliberating on which of the little things she wished to bring. She brought her old sketchbook (of course) and a new one that Caleb had commissioned for her. She packed a small photograph album with copies of her twenty-five favourite images from earth. She also chose a necklace, which had been commissioned by Cornelia, to wear throughout the journey.

Upon the golden chain dangled a gold heart-shaped locket. Behind the glass laid a vari-coloured heart woven adeptly using hair from Will, Irma, Taranee, Cornelia, Hay, and Elyon. At first Elyon had balked at the idea when Cornelia had approached her, asking her for strands of her hair. Then Cornelia had piqued her interest:

"The Victorians usually did it when someone, like, _passed_, but sometimes they did it to show how much they really, really loved someone who was still around."

Anyway, it couldn't have been any stranger than sheering wool from sheep to make clothing for people (at least, that's what Taranee had pointed out to Cornelia). And Cornelia had hoped that this unique gift would be a fantastic way by which to remember them.

Elyon smiled, feeling tears well in her eyes.

"Your Majesty?"

Elyon glanced over her shoulder at Nagadir and the other servants.

"Your generals are ready to depart," continued the young Galhot woman.

"Cool. Just give me a minute," replied Elyon as she donned the necklace. Then she closed her knapsack, slung it over her shoulders, and followed the servants outside.

Everyone who saw her hailed the young queen. She smiled and tipped her head until she reached her carriage, a light-weight, covered coach with six passenger seats.

"This is so. Totally. _Cool!_" exclaimed the queen. "Are we _all_ gonna get to ride together?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," replied Nagadir with a smile.

Elyon rushed down the steps. She petted the heads of the tricerapposes drawing the coach, and each smoky-cream tobiano creature leaned into her kind touch.

Then her adopted parents arrived, leading their steeds. She greeted the soldiers and hugged them tightly.

"_What_ a greeting!" laughed Miriadel.

"If only some of our soldiers were so excited to see us first thing," joshed Alborn.

Then Miriadel asked, "Are you ready to go, my queen?"

"_Sooo_ totally!" cheered Elyon, and Alborn laughed. He shepherded her to the coach, and the coach driver opened the door. The queen and her servants slid inside.

"Good morning, my queen," said Caleb as he rode to one of the windows. "How do you feel today?"

"Excited!" she blurted, almost cutting him off. She dipped her head and blushed as he chuckled.

"And maybe a _little_ nervous," she added.

Caleb nodded.

A few days before the departure, Elyon had mustered enough courage to tackle her mother's journal again. Actually, she had had Caleb give her the gist of it: Queen Chesed had known that relationships between humans and Aaronagim had been strained, to say the least. She had known of 'incidents' but had not fully-comprehended why the two peoples couldn't move beyond past misunderstandings.

_Oh, sure! Let's just forget the times where Escanor and his knights killed their babies for no reason what-so-ever_, Elyon had thought. _Let's just_ _forget _all the times_ a bunch of dirty, old soldiers hurt their women _and _their men in the grossest way possible. Water under the bridge? Totally!  
_

What had added sorrow to those tragedies: Chesed hadn't known of those crimes. How could she have, though? Why would anyone have let her known? To Elyon, the deliberate omissions in her mother's history lessons had reminded her of... _him_, when _he_ had hidden the truth from Elyon. He had covered up his crimes. He had convinced others to cover his crimes and the crimes they had committed under his protection.

_Maybe_ there had been instances when the Escanors had been justified to attack the Aaronagim. Maybe _not all_ retaliation on the part of the Aaronagim had been justified. But still, it hadn't been fair. Hiding the full scope of history from Chesed hadn't been fair to her! She could have _died—_her _entire_ entourage nearly wiped out all because of selfish people wanting to hide the truth—

"Your Majesty..."

Elyon awoke, sighed, and gazed into Caleb's eyes. _God!_ She could even _feel_ how deep her frown was! She could almost hear Cornelia scolding her about the wrinkles she'd made.

"... remember what Vathek has said," continued the young general, "and Cedric, too."

Elyon took in a deep breath and nodded. "I know. I know."

She saw Caleb reaching out to her. She clasped hands with him, her laughter stilted by anxiety.

"Th-things are gonna be alright?" she asked. "Right?"

Caleb tipped his head. His eyelids lowered as he contemplated his words. "I can't guarantee that, my queen, but we're gonna try our damned-est."

Elyon sniffled and chuckled. "That's... I guess that's all I can ask for."

Then she reclined in her seat, mustering her enthusiasm, and cried, "Well! What are we waiting for? Let's get this party going! We've got some diplomacy we gotta make happen!"

Caleb grinned, bowed his head, and cried, "Yes, Your Majesty!" Then he rode up and down the battalion, crying, "Move out! Move out!" and the soldiers began to march.

* * *

The battalion marched for five days to Port Iseulde. From the safety and comfort of her coach, Elyon marvelled at the miles and miles of wilderness, peppered with towns and villages about the thoroughfare. No asphalt roads, no concrete and steel, simply trees and houses built with nature in mind.

When the battalion did stop at a town or a village, the citizens erupted into jubilation. The Light of Meridian had arrived in _their_ humble town! Some of the citizens remarked that the queen was sweeter than 'loquat jam' or 'mashed _kukoa_ beans'; and she was always marked as a welcome change from 'that loathsome devil.'

When the battalion arrived in Port Iseulde, even its bustling citizens spared a moment from swirling about their business, gathering around their queen. After she exited her coach, she strolled the cobbled streets (surrounded by guards, of course) and bade 'Hello!' to as many of the cheering and happily-weeping faces as possible. If an adult could not penetrate the throng, their children and their children's friends would weave through the chaos, making merry, dancing around the soldiers, offering the queen flowers and the occasional toy.

Of course, Elyon would politely-decline to take their childhood treasures, but she would touch an item tenderly and thank them for being so kind.

"Your parents should be _very_ proud of you for being generous," she would say.

Such a compliment from a supreme being rendered the respective child speechless, eyes sparkling with awe.

Eventually Elyon leaned against Caleb and sighed. "This is crazy! All this meeting-and-greeting the public takes a lot out of a girl. Is there anyway we can get something to eat before we set sail?"

"I don't see why not," said Caleb; and so, while Alborn, Miriadel, and Vathek oversaw final preparations with the captains of their ships, Caleb oversaw security at a tavern carefully-selected for Elyon's patronage.

The place overflowed with soldiers, so much so that some patronised nearby competitors. While each of the taverns offered free food and drink on this joyous day, the queen arranged for them to be paid accordingly.

As an hour of merriment passed, the din outside began to fall silent. Elyon was slow to notice it but attributed the phenomenon to everyone in the city heading home for a noon meal. Then she noticed how the tavern-keepers and the servers glanced apprehensively through the windows, as though awaiting some grim spectre to enter their business.

"What's going on out there?" she wondered aloud.

"I dunno, Majesty," replied Caleb as he stared through the open door, passers-by squeezing into and against the exterior of the tavern. The young general rose and stalked toward the door, hand on the hilt of his sword.

As soon as what-ever—_who-ever_—had passed, the citizens resumed their goings-about albeit with new anxiousness. Elyon looked for Angelica, the tavern-keeper, and waved for her to approach her table.

"What just happened?" she asked the older Escanor woman.

"Problem, Yer Majesty?" queried Angelica.

"No. It's just... What was with all that silence—uh, everyone _trying_ to be silent or at least get out of the way?"

Angelica's eyes widened, and her expression stiffened. "I... I di'n' notice a t'ing—"

Then her husband Renaud interjected, "Now, don't ya be worryin' Yer Reg'lness o'er nuthin', Yer Majesty—_infinite broightness to th' Light!_ Jus' keep on sippin' and eatin', mah dear, bu' not too much as t' make yerself sick on thaht ship."

"Well... I _am_ worried," replied Elyon sternly. "If someone is causing trouble in your city, then I—"

"No, no, no," chanted Angelica, "no trouble—"

_"Angelica!"_

The tavern-keeper and her husband stood at attention about as fast as any of Caleb's soldiers. Sitting tall, Elyon demanded, "Who was that who just passed by?"

Wife and husband glanced into each other's eyes before Angelica replied reluctantly, "It... it's one o' theh... th' _Dames_, Yer Majesty."

Elyon cocked her head. "Dames?"

"It's one o' Great Lady Harmonia's folk," whispered Renaud.

The sudden skip in Elyon's heart confirmed _what_ this 'she' was.

Then Renaud shook his hands dismissively and said, "I-I wouldn' worry, if I was you, Yer Majesty. 'm sure she jus' passin' on t'rough."

Suddenly, Caleb returned.

"Who was it?" she whispered in Caleb's ear.

"An Aaronag," replied Caleb. "One lady, four guards. Has everyone pretty damned spook."

Elyon hummed contemplatively. "Yeah. No kidding there."

"I tried to get more information, but no one wants to talk. Almost all scattered like sewer troopers from a pack of Saturnine cats."

"I wonder if maybe... Well, maybe it wouldn't be such a good idea, but..."

"Your Majesty?" Caleb cocked his head.

Even if Elyon managed to catch up with the Lady, she had no way to know if meeting with her would be worthwhile. The Lady might sneer at her, call her foolish. She might even become _violent_ if Elyon were particularly unlucky that moment. Hell, she might even be one of those citizens that Vathek's friend had warned them about: someone who held a grudge against Escanors and wouldn't hesitate, even with hundreds of soldiers surrounding them, to attack.

Then again, if Elyon were humble enough, the Lady might have some beneficial advice.

"Let's try to catch up with her," commanded Elyon. "Come on!"

Caleb bowed his head and rallied his troops. While the soldiers assembled, Elyon thanked Angelica and Renaud profusely for their hospitality. They felt as honoured as she, if not more, and Angelica bade:

"_Be careful_, Yer Majesty. Ole Lor' Cedric learnt his skills from someone, and th' Dames a'en't folks yeh play aroun' wid."

"I know. And I promise," said Elyon, and she followed Caleb as he and his soldiers traced the path of the Lady and her guards.

The citizens of Port Iseulde still hesitated to divulge where the Lady had gone. Whether they feared for the young monarch or feared retribution from the Lady, Elyon couldn't guess. Reluctantly, Elyon leveraged her crown, emphasising that, "I _need_ to see her." Finally, the citizens would gesture and murmur, and Elyon and her entourage hurried forth.

Their quest led them to an alley dotted with shops dedicated to the visual and performing arts. A small contingency of soldiers peeked into doors and windows until they waved the queen over to a music shop.

The Lady stood before the counter, back to the open door, chatting with someone in an unfamiliar tongue. Four men stood behind her, three with faces like Far-East Asians and one with the face of a Western European. Each man wore a gambeson-like coat as indigo as twilight and embroidered with silver arabesques on the collars and sleeves. Each of their ears twinkled with four diamond earrings, while silver bars with topaz studs ran through their septa.

All four men looked perfectly human except for one telltale feature: their 'masks,' pigments that ran across their faces and around their earlobes.

"Woah..." Elyon marvelled at them; not that they reciprocated the sentiment. The men scowled at the gathering and took two steps forward.

"Um... I think I'll go inside by myself," suggested Elyon.

Caleb glanced at her. "Bad idea. I think we should move on, Your Majesty. They're probably ready at the docks any—"

"No, no, no!" she insisted rapidly. "We just need to be not so... _crowd-y-ish_. Just keep the area secure, and I'll be right back."

Then she stepped meekly inside the shop, approaching the towering guards as they began to bare their teeth.

"_Hey-ey-ey_!" she greeted with a small wave, eyes fixed upon the Lady. "Hi! How's it goin'?"

The Lady straightened and stiffened. She turned round, and Elyon felt her jaw drop.

_Oh my God... She's... She's _amazing_..._

Her face was the face of a young Far-East Asian woman. Her mask was Tyrian purple, and her lips were painted scarlet. Her cascading hair shined like polished obsidian, and her skin shared that same otherworldly golden hue with Cedric's.

Her gown flowed and scintillated with the colours of twilight, and the collar was wide, wrapping around her shoulders and barely concealing her breasts as it ended beneath her navel.

Elyon's voice cracked. "Uh... I... I..."

The Lady had rendered the young queen dumbfounded.

"_Who are _you," hissed the sibilant Lady, "_to boldly interrupt _my _businessss?_"

Elyon gulped and shrank beneath her gaze.

_Her eyes... Her eyes are like Cedric's when he changes_, she realised; whereas his were amethysts ringed by solid gold, this Lady's were sharply-cut emeralds ringed by molten gold.

"_Speak!_" commanded the Lady.

The floor creaked behind Elyon. She turned toward Caleb and his soldiers as the young general began to step inside. She waved her hands frantically for them to stand down before returning toward the Lady.

"Your Ladyship," began Elyon, "I am Queen Elyon, daughter of the Light of Meridian."

The Lady leaned back and scoffed. "_You_? The heir, restored? Do you take me for a fool?"

Her men snarled deep in their chests.

"I-It's true!" exclaimed Elyon. "I mean, if I weren't the true heir, then how come there's a bunch of soldiers—you know, _castle_ soldiers—in the city?"

"_Pfeh!_ Those who have gold and silver can afford any number of guards as they please," retorted the Lady.

"Well, what about the land? And the fact that _Phobos's_ soldiers _aren't_ parading around any more, like they own the place? And the people! I don't think everyone in Port Iseulde just spontaneously broke out into celebration, just for the heck of it."

The Lady's serpentine tongue flickered as Elyon presented her case. She could've sworn the Lady hadn't blinked once as her eyes glowed otherworldly.

"And... well... with all due respect, do you think anyone would be _crazy_ enough to approach you? Knowing who you are? Aside from me, of course. And maybe Caleb," she added as she pointed to the young general. "He's a _way longer_ story than I am.

The Lady cocked her head as her wide-eyed guards gazed slowly at their master.

Elyon tittered nervously. _Way to go, you ditz! You just overwhelmed her brain with your dumb Earth speech, and now she probably thinks you really are craz—_

The Lady's hearty laughter took her aback. Both hands pressed against the Lady's chest and belly, her breath hitching as she gained control.

"If you _ssseek_ to _deccceive_ me," she hissed with a wolfish grin, "then may all Metamoor declare you the queen of liars; for none in this world has performed with such conviction, such an air of the genuine as you."

Elyon leaned back. "Does... that mean you believe me or think that I'm—"

"I sense no lie," clarified the Lady, at which Elyon sighed and placed a hand on her heart.

"And so, I ask you, sweet child of the Light, what delivered you to me?"

"Well, it's kind of a long explanation—okay... It _is_ a long explanation, but I'll try to keep it short. This whole being the heir thing—it's hard. A _lot_ harder than I thought. I mean, I was raised on Earth my whole life. I didn't know I was a princess. Nobody told me until now or taught me how to rule, and as a result of that, nobody here takes me seriously. I mean, I have all this power..."

Then she snapped her fingers, and a blue flamed sparked to life in the palm of her hand.

"... but I can't run my kingdom... queen-dom? I can't rule the land with magick alone," and once she closed her hand, the blue flame died, sparkling particulate floating upward into nothingness.

"You seek not to rule in the manner your family has?" inquired the Lady.

"No," replied Elyon. "No, not at all. I don't wanna be like them—not like Phobos, not like my ancestors... not by force and definitely not how like they treated you, the Aaronagim."

The Lady's head perked, and her eyes began to glow again.

"That's why I'm going to Že-ai-ii... Že-ai-yah... the Land of the Lotus, Your Ladyship. I want to ask for the favour of your guys's queen, the Highest Lady Olindoyo," at whose name the guards stiffened, and their eyes widened. They glanced nervously at their master while Elyon chuckled sadly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know! It's probably a stupid idea. I'm probably gonna get myself cursed or my people killed. But I _know_ how revered your people are. One of my friends, Vathek—he has a friend in the queen's court, and both of them told me that if I can gain Queen Olindoyo's favour _and_ keep it, then maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have as hard a time. People would respect me, and people like _Eshcrie Larroneux_"—Elyon hid none of her bitterness—"maybe they'll think twice before attacking my people again."

A moment of silence passed before the Lady asked:

"What do seek you from me?"

"I wanted to ask you: What can I do? There's so little I know about the Aaronagim, about your culture. I mean, Vathek's helped some, and so has Caleb. And Cedric—he was the only one I knew, and he was _such_ a great friend—he's gone now. Not dead, but, like, he's in the middle of being rehabilitated. He's not around to make sure I don't insult you either by accident or, God forbid, on purpose."

The guards gazed upon the young queen before they gazed again at their pensive lady. She closed her eyes before she knelt and placed her hands upon Elyon's shoulders.

"You have told Her of your coming?" she asked.

"Yes."

She paused again, eyes moving side-to-side before she asked, "Do you understand what it means to have a Lady's favour?"

Elyon blinked rapidly, unable to stop tears from forming in her eyes. "_Yes_. Yeah, and it's scary, but... everyone else? They understand, too."

With an expression as unreadable as a serpent's, the Lady wiped the tears from Elyon's cheeks. She sighed silently and replied, "You are young, Majesty, _too_ young and too green in your reign to undertake this journey. I am concerned by how desperate you feel, even with such dire obstacles, as the Yretges, surrounding you. But your heart is so guileless"—the Lady chuckled and flashed her wolfish grin—"even my lukewarm heart beats in tandem with your sorrow."

Then she rose and spoke loudly, "I deign to bestow this wisdom to you: _Be yourself_. You cannot pretend to know us, for many have tried and failed. _Listen_, for She shall have much to say, and She has no patience for those who would try to explain _our_ history _to us_," and she stared at every soldier on the street.

"I... I understand, Your Ladyship," replied Elyon with a bow. "I don't know how I can repay you."

"Do as I have said, and return to this land paying heed to _all_ that the Ancient and Terrible One tells you. _That_ shall be your payment."

"Yes, Your Ladyship," said Elyon, and she rose. "Thank you, Your Ladyship."

The Lady smiled, as did her guards, and she tipped her head.

Finally, Elyon returned to her soldiers, and she and her soldiers began to march to the docks.

"_Hoh-oh-oh, woah!_" sighed Elyon, hand on her heart. "That. Was. _Intense!_"

"I'll admit, Your Majesty," began Caleb, "I was worried about you the entire time. Just because you're the Light of Meridian doesn't mean you're always prepared for a fight."

"The thing is I didn't feel like she was going to hurt me; not necessarily. It's weird. It's, like... I could feel her energy, her aura, whatever you call it. It was dark but not in the way that Phobos's aura is dark. It felt like the wind in the middle of the night, like the night and the wind became one and was pushing up against me. But then when she was calm, the night-wind hybrid thing got calmer and blew around me rather than against me."

Then she laughed as though she sounded foolish and admitted, "Yeah, weird, I know!"

Caleb smirked and said, "It's not as strange as you think, Your Majesty."

Eventually, the party arrived with ships prepared to sail. As the queen and her company boarded, the citizens of Port Iseulde and the soldiers who remained home bade them fondest fare-wells, blessings, and accolades. Elyon waved vigourously in return, crying out that she loved them all.

As her ship sailed further from port, her joy stilled when she noticed five strange figures atop some of the taller buildings. She squinted and realised they were enormous serpents, massive enough to collapse the roofs, she dreaded. Yet they rested easily and undisturbed while they seemed to gaze at her ship in particular.

And so, she raised a meek hand to the five serpents and waved fare-well and thanks again.

* * *

**Annotations:**

_Tricerapposes _(pl.n.; animal) tricerappos (sing.), an animal greatly-resembling a horse with three horns starting from the forehead down the nasal bone. Seen in the comics; usually colored chestnut, dun, or buckskin.

_Great Lady Harmonia_ (Aaronag) Escanor name for Great Lady Heyayoye. She controls the Nightsky-Gazers Clan, whose members dwell in a region of Metamoor known as 'the Garden of Shadows,' lands that include part of Žeayia Yikþ and a small section of the Meridian province.


	11. For Life Is This Way

**Chapter XI**

The ocean and winds looked favourably upon the expedition for the initial six days. Bouts of seasickness inhibited Elyon's ability to visit the deck; but she managed to admire some of the surreal miles and miles of glittering waters, the resplendent blue of the sky, and the occasional visits from Nimue's dolphins.

Upon the seventh day, massive columns of clouds towered upon the ocean's surface. At first, Elyon and company dreaded that these were waterspouts, but the captain said:

"No; but they aren't portents of good weather, either." Then she sighed and suggested that Elyon and Caleb prepare themselves and their half of the company for a rough twenty-four hours.

On the eighth night, the ocean rocked the ship mercilessly. Elyon's seasickness prevailed over any desire she had other than lay as still as possible. Her unfortunate servants tended to her as best as they could, but if their own queasiness didn't hamper their efforts, the fright of the evil rocking of the ship rendered them useless.

Suddenly, something rammed into the the ship. Some in the company shrieked, and Elyon pried herself from her cot. She watched as Caleb wobbled towards her, lantern in one of his hands.

"Caleb!" she exclaimed amidst the pandaemonium. "Caleb! What's—"

"Outside! Creatures! _Huge _sea monsters!" he shouted, stoking the dread of the passengers. "They're attacking the ship!"

A new type of nausea sickened Elyon. She wondered aloud, "The captain—what about the captain and the crew?"

Caleb shook his head and replied, "If we don't get you up there, Your Majesty, this whole quest stops before—"

A heart-stopping _crack_ and the accompanying tremor caused Caleb to lose his footing. Elyon forced herself to rise, climbed through her servants and soldiers, and joined his side.

"I'm okay," he said. "You?"

"I'd rather not be up," she confessed as she rubbed her sore throat. "I don't know if I have enough strength to stop this."

Another beastly crash preceded more screams and louder sobbing. As Elyon curled against Caleb, the young general insisted, "You have to try, Your Majesty! Please!"

Then as he began to rise, he clutched Elyon and helped her to her feet. Lifting the lantern high, he ushered her through the dark ship, crawling up the groaning stairs into a jetty world that was illuminated by the occasional and ghastly-red lightning.

Elyon slipped and slid upon the deck. She heard the cries of the crew as they struggled to keep the deck secure, all while dodging infernal tendrils blacker than the night itself.

_"Hang on!"_ hissed a large, black creature before one of its grey, bony hands grabbed one of hers. Elyon jolted before the bony hand placed hers upon a stiff and sticky rope.

_"Hang on to the web!"_ commanded Caleb behind the creature, and the bony hands helped the queen to her feet.

Elyon followed the web to its end: attached to one of the masts. She steadied herself against it. She breathed deeply as rain beat against her, fighting her nausea as she reached into the well of her powers. Her lungs swelled, and her heart began to race as she insisted that this all would stop. It would stop; it would stop, she told herself, it would stop; it would stop; _it would stop—_

A brilliant, blue sphere engulfed the young queen, and she floated high. The sphere spread across the ship, then across the roiling waters, causing the tendrils to sizzle recoil and the creatures to roar in frustration.

Farther and farther her energy spread until the sister ship was engulfed and its assailants were also driven back. The monstrosities swam in circles around the barrier, causing the waters to still roll and rock.

Then Elyon craned her head to the sky, and she lifted her hands above her head.

_"This will stop now!"_

The force, natural or supernatural, that had conjured the tempest flinched against her will, but anything that transpired after, Elyon wouldn't be able to recall.

* * *

Elyon drifted between the waking world and the exhaustion-fed sleep. When she would become aware enough, Nagadir would gave her a drink to sip or a piece of bread to nibble before Elyon would collapse in her cot again.

Clearly she had prevailed against the storm, the creatures, and whatever malice might have sent them, but she felt too enervated to sit and chat and learn of what had transpired.

Finally, on the afternoon of what she later learned was the eleventh day, Elyon felt well enough to sit for a prolonged time. A weary Altaira knelt before her and asked her how she felt.

"_A lot_ better," replied Elyon.

Altaira smiled and alerted the other servants; and the servants, in turn, alerted Caleb, Alborn, and Miriadel. The three visited her with the captain in tow, and she bowed and thanked Elyon profusely.

"I just wish I could've helped sooner," said Elyon. Then she hesitated before she asked, "Did... Did we lose anyone?"

Her visitors frowned. The captain admitted, "We did."

Elyon sighed through her nose and closed her eyes. "How many?"

"Eleven—"

"—but it could've been a lot worse!" Alborn quickly added.

"But that's still eleven people _dead_," said Elyon, "eleven people who no one gets to see any more. Not in this life, anyway." Then she heaved a sighed and added, "All because of me."

"Your Majesty! No!" exclaimed the captain as she scooted closer. "It's not your fault!"

"But it is!"

"Queen Elyon," began Caleb, "when we set out on this journey, you knew there was the risk that people would die."

Elyon bowed her head. Caleb continued: "I know how terribly death effects you. I'd rather have a ruler like you, who cares, rather than have someone like Phobos in charge. With that said, you need to learn to accept that our world isn't like Heatherfield. The creatures of Metamoor are more brazen than the ones on Earth. Magic is much stronger here, too, both benign and malign.

"Death _is_ terrible, but it's... simply a part of our lives."

Though she had restrained any sobbing, Elyon's eyes had filled with tears. She sniffled and nodded as she wiped her face.

"And knowing how sick you've been all this time, mah Queen," added the captain, "I simply don' know how you done it other than you _are_ the Light of Meridian. I haven't the words to tell you how grateful I am. Truly, mah Queen, you are the Light who shines infinitely."

Elyon choked on her sombre laughter and reached for one of the captain's hands. She sniffled, "Th-Thank you. Thank you for all that you're doing. You and the crew."

The captain smiled and patted her hands. Then she rose, bowed her heads, and bade the company 'Good day' before returning to her duties.

* * *

On the afternoon of the fifteenth day, the captain's crew spotted Port Tristan. The relief was palpable. Elyon and her part of the company watched from the deck as they sailed closer and closer to land, eying buildings that seemed all different hues of blue and green.

The city was more amazing once they entered it. The main thoroughfares appeared to be lined with white marble or some Metamooran analog, and the rake above the entrance of almost every building gleamed like highly-polished silver.

"It's argentite," noted Caleb.

"It's the staple of their economy," added Vathek.

"It's _gorgeous_," marvelled Elyon, "and all detailed embossing!"

As more of the company joined them on land, word began to spread of Queen Elyon's arrival. Port Tristan's citizens clamoured around her in greater numbers and with greater joy than even the citizens of Port Iseulde. Of course, her soldiers kept her safe.

Inevitably, Tristan's leaders caught wind of Her Majesty's arrival, and they arranged for the company to stay at the finest inns. Elyon was grateful beyond words, and the citizens celebrated in the streets around the inns: playing music and dancing, heaping praises upon the Light of Meridian, and feasting alongside her soldiers.

Then the sun began to set. Jubilation yielded to nervousness, though the citizens seemed torn between departure and lingering. But as they glanced at their clocks, they bade the company 'Farewell' and 'Good evening' before shuffling to their houses.

"Well, thank you all again," said Elyon to two of the city's council members. "Really, if there's anything we can do for you, please, let us know."

The Galhot with the grandmotherly features and orange skin patted Elyon's hands and said, "Jus' be safe, mah dear Majesty. Be safe on yer travels to... to _there._"

"An' be safe _here_," added her colleague, a tall Galhot with a face like a gecko. "Seem dem lights?"

She pointed to the street lanterns, which emitted a familiar saffron glow.

"Are those... Kopallitli lights?" asked Elyon.

"They are indeed, mah dear Majesty," replied the gecko-like Galhot. "They won't keep ya safe per se, but you all stick close to th'm when yer out no matter what."

Caleb and Alborn joined the conversation.

"What exactly should we be worried about?" asked Alborn.

The councillors glanced at one another before the orange Galhot sighed.

"We... have our own arrangement... with _them_," she replied.

"Not like what yer lookin' for, though," said the gecko-like Galhot.

"What kind of arrangement?" asked Caleb as his face hardened.

The councillors hesitated again.

"Only reason why Port Tristan's lasted this long," began the gecko-like Galhot, "s'because they allowed it to last this long."

"Hmm! Long's we abide by certain terms, includin' the curfew," said the orange Galhot, "our people lack any trouble from them or... well... any o' the critters that enjoy their protection. But as soon as anyone tries a-roamin', they go missin'."

"An' if we try 'n' come out en masse..."

"_Ooo!_" The orange Galhot shuddered. "It'd been—what? Two... three hundred years since _that _incident?"

Elyon glanced at Caleb and recognised the gravity in his eyes. Then she returned her attention to the councillors and said, "In that case, I don't want to take up any more of your time. We'll be careful. The last thing we want is to get you in trouble with the Ladies."

"Infinite Brightness to you, Your Majesty," said the orange Galhot with a bow, and she and her companion hurried to their homes.

Elyon sighed, "Oh, man!"

"Orders, Your Majesty?" asked Caleb.

"Tch! You know better than I do," she grumbled. "I guess tell everyone to schedule a watch. How-ever many you feel is enough. And get the word out to the other inns as fast as you can."

"Yes, Your Majesty," and a moment later, Caleb changed into raven and started with the inn fartherest from them.

Then Alborn called together their portion of the company and made known the ominous curfew. The guards would rotate every two hours, and no matter what, no one was to stray beyond the light of the Kopallitli lanterns.

Caleb managed to return as the last rays of the sun retreated. Elyon hugged him tightly, for in spite of his Aaronag-given gift, he wasn't one of them, and he wasn't one of their 'critters.'

Finally she and he retired to their designated rooms.

* * *

"Queen Elyon. Queen Elyon!"

_"Nagadir!" _hissed another voice. _"Leave her be!"_

Nagadir was shaking Elyon, while another servant, Trill, opened the curtains, revealing the barely-lit sky.

"I said leave her—"

Elyon moaned. "What's the matter, guys?"

Altaira huffed and retreated. Nagadir shot her a brief glare before she returned her grieved face to the young queen.

"There's been an incident," said Nagadir. "Come!"

Elyon threw her blankets off her and leapt out of bed. As she hurried through the hall, Altaira said, "General Juliansson didn't want to disturb you in spite of what's happened. He knows you need your rest, and I—"

"It's okay, Altaira," said Elyon as they descended the stairs. "If it's an emergency..."

She halted as all eyes in the tavern fell toward her. The place was cramped with soldiers. She almost couldn't spot Caleb.

"What's happened?" she asked when she managed to join his side.

Caleb tipped his head towards the two sitting women, one of whose eyes were red with grief.

"There was an incident at one of the inns," began the general. "Esther and two of her comrades had gone to relieve Rachel and three others. They were stationed outside the door; hadn't gone beyond the street lanterns until some strange woman appeared."

"'Strange woman'?" repeated Elyon.

"We're... We're not sure," answered the clear-eyed soldier. "She just... came out of nowhere. At least, I think it's a woman? I never saw the face, just the arms. They were white like sun-bleached bone. She... She was wearin' a red cloak, and she was _tall_, and she had... she had an instrument like a cithren or somethin'. And she sounded like a woman. She was singin'."

"No one was able to make out any words," continued Caleb. "But they know it was neither an Escanor nor a Galhot dialect. Apparently, Rachel and her comrades had heard something in the distance. That's when the other three complained of feeling foggy."

"'Foggy'?" puzzled Elyon.

"Like when person drinks too much," said Caleb, "or takes any number of medicines. Your head feels like it's in a fog."

"Thing is, Rachel and I—we heard it just like the rest of them did," continued the clear-eyed soldier. "So, the other two with me—they start complainin' about feelin' foggy, too; and then we see this woman steppin' out of the shadows; and then she turns to approach us, and a couple of us are tellin' her to halt and turn around; but then Jeremy goes and turns and growls at us."

"Then another one... and the rest, they're just starin' now," began Rachel with a sob. "They turn and look at her, and her pace is slowed, and she turns and starts walkin' away."

"And the rest start walkin' with her," said Esther. "And I try to tell 'em, 'No!' But then the one I jump in front of, Mark, he gives me a _nasty_ snarl, like a feral dog. Gives me a good shove, and there they all go."

"We tried to save them," sobbed Rachel, "but what were we supposed to do? We panicked. We woke up the inn, tried to decide what to do. We wanna go after them, but the innkeeper won' let us. Says it could be our deaths."

"Meanwhile, more of us felt foggy," interrupted another soldier. "It went away as soon as no one could hear the singing any more."

Elyon gazed in growing urgency at Caleb. "Well, what do you think it was? And-and what do we do?"

"I shudder to think it was a siren," suggested Alborn. "If they're not dead yet, they'll soon wish they were."

"But commander, they weren't all men," said Esther. "Two of 'em were women."

Alborn's brows knitted. He leaned back and gazed at an equally-puzzled Caleb.

"What... else could it be?" wondered the commander.

Someone closest to the bar cleared their throat. The innkeeper stood atop his ladder to be better seen. He tipped his head and said, "Pardon me, gentlemen. I don' want to interrupt ya, but you ought to know... We... We get some of our rules, our curfew and the like, from folk sayin' they're from the Great Lady Harmonia's clan. And so, I'm not surprised it was a voice and a guitar like _that_ what stole away your people, but I still... I still can't believe..."

The innkeeper sniffled and climbed down the ladder. A couple of soldiers joined him behind the bar to comfort him, while Elyon, Caleb, and Alborn approached.

"So, you think an Aaronag had something to do with this?" asked Elyon, and the innkeeper nodded.

"Do have _any_ idea where she would have taken them?" asked Caleb, and the innkeeper shook his head and sniffled.

"I'd never... never thought they'd do somethin' like this," wept the innkeeper. "Not to you, anyway. But they're _bold_, Your Majesty, they're _bold_. Thought they'd leave you alone. Never thought they'd go after you. They see everythin', don' they? So, they should know. They should know better. They should've known, but this... this means they don' care. They don'..."

The innkeeper's tears impeded him from saying more. Alborn heaved a sigh, while Caleb assumed his trademark grimness, which always made him look a decade older than he was.

"What do we do now?" murmured a lower-ranking soldier.

"Well, we can't just turn tail, lads," said another.

"So, what? We all get picked off—"

_"Enough!"_ shouted Caleb before he returned his attention to Elyon.

"We can't just leave them behind," she said.

"We don't even know where to start looking for them," retorted Alborn.

"Can we ask the council? I mean, it's obvious they talk to the Aaronagim."

"That doesn't mean they know where they're at."

"But we _have_ to at least _ask_, Dad! Asking's not gonna hurt," and before Alborn could retort, Elyon turned to the innkeeper and noted, "And besides, didn't you say that the Aaronagim know _everything_? So, if they know _everything_, why would they _not_ know why we're here? And what I'm trying to achieve?"

"Because there are those who don't want you to succeed."

Elyon's eyes widened before she turned to face Caleb.

"What?" she asked.

Caleb shook his head and continued, "Remember Lady Cecelia's warning: Not everyone's going to welcome us with open coils."

"But that Lady at Port Iseulde—"

"—is one of _many_ Aaronagim," interrupted Caleb, "and each one is out for him- or herself most of the time. And whether that entails helping Escanors or... the-Oracle-knows-what, that's gonna depend heavily on the individual.

"And my feeling for _this_ particular situation is this: Someone in Tristan wants to sabotage the mission. Why? I don't know. But the longer we stay in the city, the worse things are gonna get; and I'd rather take my chances out in the wilderness at this point."

Elyon's heart sunk further before she asked, "And... the soldiers?"

Caleb shook his head. Elyon heaved a sigh and ran a hand through her hair.

Damn it! Why? Why would anyone do this? To blameless people? If some creature hated the Light of Meridian so much, why not target her _directly_? That would've caused much more chaos.

Exhaling more deeply, Elyon said, "Prepare the company to move as soon as possible. I don't wanna even waste time saying good-bye if it means we're putting people at a high risk of... what-ever this is."

Therefore, her word was done. The remainder of the company gathered in the largest square closest to Elyon's inn, and the tragedy that had transpired was known to all. Fear quickly supplanted grief. Elyon wished to assure them that the wilderness would afford more security, but she couldn't do that (not after what she had learned about the myriad deadly fauna (and flora) of Metamoor, not after learning that the Aaronagim could change into anything within the myriad).

All she could say was, "If we're going to survive this... If we're going to _increase_ the chance to survive, we all need to listen to Caleb; and we need to keep him informed. If there's something you notice that he hasn't, you tell him immediately. If I as your Queen can do this, then certainly the rest of you can do this."

And so the fear, which still plagued the company, shrank a little. Almost of all the company had served beneath the former rebel leader, and despite being less than two decades old, he was often wiser and more reliable than most men twice his age.

Nevertheless, Elyon felt sick, and her sickness refused to abate during the ride beneath the clear sky or with the soft breeze against her face. This much tragedy was abnormal, even when factoring in that this was Metamoor, not Heatherfield. Strange and malicious phenomena mocked her, mocked the fact she had inherited god-like powers that she could use to protect all, mocked the fact that she wished the least amount of harm against all.

Elyon dreaded that the mockery was yet to cease.

* * *

**Annotations:**

_argentite_ (metal) a substance with the appearance and malleability of silver. Unlike silver, it does not tarnish in the presence of moisture.

_siren_ (people) Metamoor's sirens tend to call the lands closest to the ocean their homes. Their songs have the ability to hypnotise men of any race but not the women.


End file.
